Sins of the Fathers
by AgiVega
Summary: With Emily grown and ready to start a relationship, Jane Roland realises she made a mistake in not asking the name of her daughter's father. As the saying goes, better late than never, but is it not too late for learning the truth now, twenty years on?
1. Spectre of the Past

**A/N: hi, everyone, remember me? I hope you do! Well, here's the new fanfic I promised you a couple of weeks ago. This is going to be novel-length again, although a little shorter than _Like Mother, Like Daughter_. Also, this is my first Temeraire fanfic in which Jane is alive and has a more or less important role. And I must admit I sort of enjoying writing her. :D**

**Warning:** this story is definitely not for kids, it is strong T-rated for hints at sexuality, various adult situations and occasional bad language. I am sure it does not reach M-rating, but is a strong-T. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** Novik owns the Temeraire universe. I am just playing with her lovely characters and putting them into situations of dubious morality. ;)

Much thanks to Mum and Michael for the beta!

**SINS OF THE FATHERS  
**

"_...I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, _

_punishing the children for the sin of the fathers_

_to the third and fourth generation..."_

Deuteronomy 5:9

**Chapter 1**

**Spectre of the Past**

_A hotel room somewhere in Dover, February of 1794_

By the first light of dawn Jane was fondly running her gaze up and down the body of the man who had been her lover the previous night. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm, his lips – surrounded by a few wrinkles – tucked into a contended smile.

Jane swept a stray greyish blond lock out of his face and grinned to herself – she had never had a man twenty years older than her, but she had nothing to complain about. Her first two lovers several years earlier had been inexperienced teenage boys, neither of them capable of satisfying her in the least. This man, however, knew exactly how to please a woman. As they say, experience comes with age…

With a sigh, she reached for her garments and reluctantly put them back on. The last piece of clothing she found on the floor was a mask – a mask she had worn to the costume ball the evening before. It was not often that Jane Roland afforded herself mundane joys such as attending a ball, especially one that was not organised by the Corps, but once in a while she took delight in escaping her fellow aviators and mingling with 'ordinary people'.

Jane knew that she need not have donned a mask in the first place, as barely anyone at the ball did, but she was still a bit uneasy about the scar she had acquired a few months previously, and felt that she would have been too much of a spectacle if she had appeared sporting a barely healed scar that ran from her left eye down to her neck. Thankfully her scar had not repelled her partner, not in the least, it only seemed to have excited him.

Casting a last glance at the slumbering man, she left the room. As the door closed behind her with a soft click, she realised she had not even asked his name. Then again, he had not asked hers either.

With a little shrug, she walked down the stairs, wondering if she could deliver good news for Excidium in a couple of weeks. Well, time will tell…

oOo

_Covert of Dover, March 1808_

"Jane, may I make a request of you?"

"That depends," she arched an eyebrow at her one-time lover. He was standing before her desk, looking somewhat uneasy, his travel bags lying on the floor by his legs.

"Last night I realised that I had not informed my mother of the real events that took place before and after my treason," he replied in a flat voice. "Those short times I met her at Wollaton Hall over the winter never offered an opportunity to discuss these things, and I feel I owe her an explanation… not to mention that she needs to be informed of the change in my sentence. I would like her to learn it from me and not from the newspapers that I shall not be hanged. I am sure she will be delighted. So," he fished a sealed piece of paper out of his coat, "I have written her a letter, but since I am already on my way to the _Allegiance,_ I have no chance to post it. May I ask you to have this letter delivered to her by courier… or in any way that makes certain that it is she who receives it and not someone else? Especially… not my father?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jane could barely hide a smirk. "Your relationship with your father is still as problematic as it used to be, I presume?"

"Worse, actually," he admitted. "His health has been ruined, and I am sure it is due to the shame I brought on the family, not to the… worry about me. He never loved me enough to worry."

"I see," Jane took the letter, almost feeling sorry for him. She had never known her father, but she assumed it could be a thousand times worse to know your father and know that he detests you than to have no idea who he is in the first place. Perhaps Emily was fortunate too, to have not the slightest inkling of who her father was. "I will see to it that the letter is delivered to your mother and given to her personally," she said with an almost smile.

"Thank you, Jane, I am in your debt."

"No," she made a grimace, "you are not. What are friends for, eh?"

He coloured slightly. "I never hoped you would still look at me as a friend after all that happened."

"Well, I do, and I expect you to write regularly, especially about Emily's advancement. And… take care of her. Safe journey, Laurence."

"Good bye, Jane," he took her right hand and lifted it to his lips, then bent for his luggage, and before she could blink twice, he had left her office, leaving an unknown sense of misery in his wake. Jane sank into her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. She knew she had to stay strong, for the Corps, for Great Britain, for Excidium and Emily… but she could not help it, even she was only human. A single tear ran down her cheek and fell on her right hand in her lap, washing away the tingling sensation his kiss hand left there. She knew she was going to miss him more than she would ever dare to admit.

oOo

Forty-eight hours later the morning found her on the grounds of Wollaton Hall, the cattle lowing and running up and down in the pen in fear of the dragon that had just landed.

"A little jittery, aren't they?" Jane slid down Excidium's side and patted her dragon's neck. The past two days they had spent flying northwards, just the two of them without the crew, sometimes in conversation about the war, sometimes deep in silence. Jane felt she badly needed some time just to herself, some time to clear her head, and Laurence's request had offered her a good enough excuse to leave Dover for a couple of days and be just herself for a change. No Admiral, no 'Her Ladyship', no warrior, just a woman on vacation with her pet – as much as a fully-grown Longwing could be considered a pet. The Corps could wait, the war could wait – it was not likely that after Napoleon's invasion there was going to be a new attack any time soon – and for the time being Jane was perfectly content with being a courier and delivering a message for a friend.

The grass beneath her feet was soft and the air was filled with the promise of spring, some fresh and lively scent that you can only smell at this time of the year when branches are full of buds and the first tulips' and hyacinths' leaf-tips are poking out from the soil. Nature was awakening from a long slumber, and, Jane hoped, so was England itself. Napoleon's invasion and all the horrors it had brought with it, had been the winter for all Britons, but now there was hope again, they had managed to make the Corsican flee, and the nation could finally face a new beginning, just like nature did in spring.

"Stay put, dearest," she told Excidium, "I shall ask for a few cows for you once I'm done." With that, she left her dragon's side and approached the charming country house with long, manly steps.

A footman opened the door for her, and, somewhat uneasily eyeing her male uniform, escorted her into the drawing room, promising to inform Lady Allendale of her arrival.

Jane looked around in the room and taking in its rich but still tasteful decorations, noted to herself that apparently everything in connection with the Laurence household was screaming of sophistication and nobility. No wonder Laurence himself had turned out the way he did…

Hearing footsteps, Jane rose from her seat to greet the elderly woman whom she had first met a few months earlier.

"Lady Allendale," she bowed her head a bit as a sign of respect, "I hope I am not intruding."

"Not in the least, Admiral Roland," came the benign reply, "you are most welcome here. How may I help you?"

The lady was speaking with peace and elegance, yet Jane could not ignore the slight tremble in her voice. This was, after all, a mother, waiting for news on her son who had been sentenced to death.

"Thank you, but I need nothing," Jane shook her head. "Your son has asked me to have this delivered to you before he left for Australia," she fished the letter out of her coat. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Jane knew well what it meant: a mother's surprise, shock and utter relief. "Yes," Jane sent the countess a small smile, "he is no longer sentenced to death but… exiled. I am sorry, Lady Allendale…"

"Do not be, dear Admiral," the old woman said with tears in her eyes. "William lives, and that is what counts. Thank you for going to so much trouble and delivering the letter."

"Oh, it was no trouble, I needed a few days off anyway, fighting Napoleon does that to you… it's damn tiring. As for the letter… Laurence wanted you to have it. You and no one else, especially not his father." Seeing a sad twinkle in the lady's eyes, Jane quickly added, "But I do not intend to further impose. I only request one or two cows for my dragon who has flown all the way from Dover and is quite hungry."

"Oh, of course, Admiral, the stable boys will help you with that," Lady Allendale replied, taking the letter from her.

Seeing the old woman's hands tremble as she touched the paper, it was obvious for Jane that she wished for nothing more than to be left alone and have a chance to read the letter's contents. Just as she cleared her throat to say good-bye, a shaky male voice spoke up from the staircase, "Who is there, Adeline?"

"It is Admiral Roland of the Aerial Corps," the lady replied, quickly slipping the letter into her pocket.

"What… what does the Aerial Corps want of us again?" the male voice grunted.

A sharp reply was on the tip of Jane's tongue, but she froze as her eyes fell upon an old man at the top of the staircase. He was wearing a dark velvet dressing gown, and he was leaning on a stick, his back slightly stooped and his breathing heavy – apparently even a few steps had required great effort of him. The first thought that came to Jane's mind was how this man had aged since she had last seen him, the second thought was if he recognised her at all. His eyes held some sort of contempt as he glowered down on her, but no recognition. Perhaps he was just good at hiding it, or perhaps he had become senile with old age. Still, Jane was not entirely sure if the contempt in Lord Allendale's eyes was directed at her aviator status, or at something… else. And she definitely did not feel like staying and finding out.

"I have been on duty in the vicinity, Lord Allendale," she said, angry at her shaking voice, "and when we last met, Lady Allendale was gracious enough to offer a cow for my dragon whenever it was needed. I must be off now, and thank you for the cow in Excidium's name." With a tiny inclination of her head, she turned on her heels and marched for the front door. Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air, was fleeing like a child caught red-handed. Well, as they say, there's a first time for everything…

oOo

**A/N: reviews would be much appreciated.**


	2. Too Good to be True

**A/N: thanks for the reviews, people! I replied to the signed ones, as usual.**

_Skeptic7:_ in book one it was stated that Emily bore a resemblance to Jane (when Laurence first met Jane, he immediately drew the conclusion they were mother and daughter because their features looked similar). I like Lady Allendale, every scene with her is fun to write, glad you like her too!

_Polyarny:_ you were signed, but you have disabled PM, so I'm replying to you this way. I hope you will enjoy this one just as much as LMLD. One thing I can promise: it will be at least as evil as that one was. ;)

**Chapter 2**

**Too Good to be True**

_Waterloo, 18__th__ June, 1815_

"Napoleon has surrendered!"

The news travelled across the lines of the Anglo-allied forces like wildfire. Arms swinging swords and rifles froze in mid-air, cavalrymen jerked the bridles to stop their horses, and dragons almost forgot to use their wings in surprise. A Winchester actually did and fell like a piece of stone on the grass below. Thankfully it had only been circling about ten metres above the ground and thus did not suffer serious injuries nor did its captain.

Temeraire happened to be hovering in mid-air, he being the only dragon around capable of such a feat, and as an almighty "HURRAY!" sounded both on the ground and in the air, his crew joined in the cheering, all of them standing up in the harness, some of them even jumping for joy. Temeraire let out a deafening roar of happiness and touched down on the grass with a soft thump.

"We won! We won!" the delighted voice of Second Lieutenant Roland shouted somewhere nearby, and Laurence turned around to see the girl run from ensign to midwingman and hug everyone within her reach, and before he could react, she had arrived to him and thrown her arms around him, plastering her lips to his.

Laurence's mind froze. Suddenly the ecstatic feeling of having contributed to Napoleon's final defeat got replaced by something equally ecstatic and still very different. For a second it occurred to him that he should not be letting her kiss him in front of all these people, then he convinced himself that it was just the joy of the victory that made her approach him in such an unusual fashion, besides, they were surely not the only people around kissing or hugging. Victories of such magnitude tended to make people lose their minds, and Laurence did not particularly mind losing his to Emily's fervent kiss. He had not been kissed by a woman for eight years, he had almost forgotten what it was like, and even if a tiny part of his conscience told him he was not being exactly gentlemanly, another part of his soul prodded him to use every second, for he could not be sure when he would next have a chance of this kind of delight.

As Emily's lips parted slightly, urging him to deepen the kiss, Laurence wondered if he had truly heard some snickers around or he had only imagined them – the snickers all sounded coming from far away, as though the rapturous crowd was not close by, but somewhere in the distance or perhaps, in a dream. For the time being only two things existed for Laurence: the victory and Emily. And as he slipped his fingers into her wind-blown hair and she tightened her embrace around him, he came to realise that he had longed for this for quite a while, he had just not admitted it to himself, deeming Emily to be too young for him and himself in his convict status unworthy of her.

If someone had asked him when he had started having feelings for Emily – feelings that had nothing to do with the care and worry of a captain or a substitute-father – he could not have named an exact date, although he was sure it had started already in Australia. They had returned to Europe almost a year earlier on Wellington's orders – apparently the Corps could not do without Temeraire's abilities –, and all this time Laurence had kept his feelings to himself, bottling them up, not even letting himself ponder them. Temeraire had more than once tried to start a conversation about this, as he, being more observant than most, had noticed the longing glances his captain inadvertently sent his second lieutenant's way. Whenever Temeraire had addressed the topic, Laurence had found some excuse to talk about something else, and after a while the dragon had given up on badgering him.

Now as he held the girl in his arms and let her kiss him senseless, it came to his mind that after this, Temeraire would surely not leave him alone until they discussed the matter. Imagining some of the most indiscreet questions that he could expect from his dragon, Laurence could not help it, his lips tucked into a grin against Emily's.

Emily might have sensed the changed quality of the kiss, and drew back, panting.

The magic of the moment was broken, and Laurence released her, letting his arms reluctantly drop back to his sides. For several long seconds they just stared at each other, both of them gasping for breath, and slowly but surely the murmur of the crowd crept back into Laurence's ears: snickers and whistles and disapproving tutting all at once.

"Laurence!" someone shouted, making him completely snap out of his stupor and break eye contact with his second lieutenant. Looking down from Temeraire's back, he realised that the man who had addressed him was none other than the Duke of Wellington sitting proudly on his snow white steed.

"Your Grace," Laurence bowed slightly, "how may I help you?"

"You may not," the duke said with an almost amused expression, "you already have. You and your damn beast have fought like a pair of tigers, I have been watching you."

"Beg your pardon, but I am no beast, I am a dragon," Temeraire said in a hurt voice, "and we were not fighting like tigers, for tigers cannot fly at all. Why, have you seen tigers with wings? I have not."

"Hush, Temeraire," Laurence patted the Celestial's neck a little nervously. His dragon always knew how to talk back to Wellesley…

The duke, however, still appeared to be amused. "Your beast… pardon, _dragon_, is just as insolent as he always was… but even despite his insolence, I am going to put in a word for you – both of you – with the Prince Regent." He held up a hand, "No need to express your gratitude."

"Oh, we didn't even want to," Temeraire began, only to be gently elbowed by Laurence in the neck. However, before the captain could apologise for his dragon's impertinence, Wellesley prodded his horse and galloped away.

"What, have I said something wrong?" Temeraire asked with wide eyes. "He said we shouldn't express gratitude…"

"Never mind, my dear," Laurence suppressed an urge to roll his eyes, and turned back to Emily, only she was no longer standing next to him but had sat back in her place several metres further down the dragon's back, and was currently looking away from him, as if she were absolutely taken with the sight of the retreating cavalry. Only the slight colour on her cheeks suggested that she was deliberately avoiding his glance.

With a sigh, Laurence told Temeraire to go aloft and follow Lily the formation leader northwards, back to England.

oOo

_Covert of Dover, the following day_

They had spent the previous night on dragonback, and after a short debriefing by Admiral Roland all captains and crews were dismissed to have a good night's sleep at last. "You all damn well deserve it," as Jane had put it, and Laurence could not agree more.

Still, he was not sure he would be able to fall asleep, no matter how tired he physically was; therefore he decided to join Temeraire on the dragon grounds. Perhaps a bit of friendly conversation would lull him into sleep, and the night was warm enough to stay outside with only his coat and Temeraire's warm breath serving as a blanket.

Shortly before he could reach his dragon, Laurence crossed a little clearing only to find a young woman sitting there on a rock. Hearing his steps, she looked up, and Laurence was suddenly reminded of finding her here, on this very rock ten years earlier, before the battle of Dover. She had been crying then, afraid of what would happen to her mother, and he had consoled her by taking her to his room and offering her hot cocoa and a few fatherly words. At this memory he felt a flush rise to his cheeks. She was a grown woman now and she was not crying only seemed a little sad, and he felt like taking her to his room, only with entirely different intentions than all those years ago.

Berating himself for his inappropriate thoughts, he sent her an encouraging smile and continued on his way to Temeraire's clearing, knowing that staying and offering her any kind of consolation would possibly be dangerous for her virtue and his clear conscience. He thought that it was odd seeing her sad after such a brilliant victory – everyone else in the covert was jumping for joy, except those few who had lost friends or relatives in the battle. But as far as Laurence knew, Emily had no close acquaintances among the victims therefore she had no particular reason for mourning.

"Sir?" she called after him before he could cross the hedges between her little clearing and that of Temeraire.

"Yes, Emily?" he doubled back, his heart rate increasing at once.

"Sir," she rose from the rock and walked up to him, "you have not talked to me since… since…"

"…the kiss?" he finished the sentence.

Emily nodded. "Was it so horribly bad?"

"What?" Laurence's eyes widened. "No, of course not, it was actually… really nice," he admitted in a small voice.

"Really?" her eyes lit up, practically blazed, and Laurence was sure it was not only due to the dark orange light of the setting sun engulfing her pretty face. There was desire in her eyes, he was quite sure of that, and realising the blaze in her eyes for what it was only made his heart beat even quicker and raised a lump in his throat.

"Uh… really," he ran a hand nervously across his locks, "although…"

"Although…?" she knitted her eyebrows, some of the glow in her eyes dimming.

"Although I do not fully understand why you kissed me in the first place."

"Do I really have to explain that?" her visage turned grim and disappointed.

"Well… yes."

Emily threw up her hands in frustration. "Just to think how embarrassed I have been for _years_, thinking that you had long figured out my feelings for you… and now you're telling me you have had no idea?"

Laurence's heart skipped a beat. Could it be possible that she was having the same feelings for him as he was for her? Would it not be too good to be true?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded. "I never noticed anything but respect and perhaps a bit of friendship coming from you…"

"Because you didn't want to notice it!" she jabbed a finger at his chest, apparently completely forgetting that he was her superior. Instinctively, he caught her hand before she could draw it back, and pulled it to his heart.

"Well, I did notice… _something_," he muttered, "but I thought it was just what I _wanted to_ see… that it was the work of my imagination. I still can hardly believe it could be true."

"But it is, sir. I love you," she whispered, her face so close to his that their noses were almost touching.

Laurence was overwhelmed. He had long ago given up on love, considering himself unworthy of such a grace of God, and now that it was practically offered to him on a golden plate, he felt dizzy.

"Sir…?" it was Emily who broke the silence. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Y…yes, Emily, I am fine."

"Then why do you have tears in your eyes? Have I said something that hurt you? Or… do you find it so hard to return my feelings?"

"No, Emily," he exhaled, blinking back his tears. "Remember what I told you just a minute ago? I thought I noticed only what I wanted to see. I did notice you giving me… odd glances, and I thought it was only my stupid little mind giving those glances a quality they did not hold. Subconsciously I was hoping those glances meant you loved me, but I did not dare hope for real."

"Why not?" she reached out with her free left hand to caress the side of his face.

"Because… I am so much older than you, Emily… and I am a convict while you are the daughter of the Admiral of the Air. You are way above me in every respect."

"Weird," she chuckled, "I felt the same about you. I thought _you _were above me in every respect. I never hoped you would love me back… but I do have a reason to hope now, don't I?"

"You need not hope for my love, Emily," he shook his head, "for it is yours already. It has been for a long time."

Her face once again lit up, and she closed the distance between them.

As their lips touched, Laurence forgot about all his intentions of visiting Temeraire. Her fingers got entangled with his greying locks and she lifted her right leg to rub the outer side of his left thigh, and he felt fire spreading in his loins, making him groan into her mouth. This must have encouraged her to push her hips into his in a fashion that made a tiny piece of his mind wonder if she still possessed the virtue he had been so wary of stealing. This thought, though tiny at first, in a matter of seconds grew large enough to fill his whole mind, and he broke the kiss and let go of her, gasping for breath and hastily arranging his cloak to hide the evidence of his desire.

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No…" he bit into his lower lip, "actually… you did everything just right, but…" _But it makes me wonder how many men you have done this with_, he added in thought, feeling horrible pangs of jealousy. The fact that she had been in love with him did not necessarily mean she had not gone to bed with anyone else. She was, after all, Jane Roland's daughter…

"Whew," she let out a sigh of relief that turned into a giggle. "I was scared I had done it wrong! You have no idea how hard it is making sure you do something right you've never done before… especially if that something is like… this. You know, I once stumbled upon Allen making out with a maid in the Sydney covert's stable and… this is what that girl did," she shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry if my attempt at imitating her was kind of lame…"

"It was not lame, Emily, not in the least," he replied, still painfully aware of the throb in his trousers. "So…" he hesitated for a second, "that means you have never…?"

"Of course I have never," she said, her voice sounding almost hurt. "I have saved myself for you… if you will have me."

Laurence needed all his willpower not to let out a laugh – it was the least he wanted for her to think he was laughing at her! But he could not help it, he was too happy: she wanted him, and him alone! At the same time a meek little voice in his head reminded him that he was treading dangerous grounds once again. It was one thing that she loved him and he loved her back, but what would everyone else think of their relationship? Would Jane Roland ever allow it?

"Do you not want me?" she asked, making him realise that he had been silent for too long.

"Emily," he took her hands, "I do want you, but… what if your mother does not approve of this relationship? Or even if she does approve, what if I have to go back to Australia and you have to stay here? Wellington may have promised to put in a word for me with the Prince Regent, but His Royal Highness is not known for his generosity. I am not sure if it is a good idea to jump into a relationship if we might never have a chance to stay in it."

"I am of a different opinion," she said sharply. "You are right in saying we might be forced apart, but don't you think we should use every moment as long as we can?"

"I agree with Emily," Temeraire poked his head over the hedge. "Carpe diem, that is what that Horatio person said, right?" Seeing Laurence's slightly shocked, slightly embarrassed expression, the dragon added, "Sorry. I see I am intruding. I'll leave now, I have heard Maximus and Lily were having a victory party of some sort, and I only wanted to wait for you and ask if you wanted to come along, but as I see, you have obligations elsewhere. Good night to you both… and Laurence, pray listen to Emily." With that he took wing and Laurence stared after him until he disappeared behind a smaller hill.

"So, will you listen to me?" Emily arched an eyebrow at her captain.

"I would… I only fear we might do something careless and… and if I had to leave, it would be most unfortunate if I happened to leave you in trouble."

"In trouble?" she laughed. "Never fear for that, sir. I know the calendar well enough, and today we are completely safe."

"Um… call me William," was all he managed to utter in surprise. Then again, why was he surprised? – he wondered. Jane Roland must have taught her daughter everything she needed to know about men and how to deal with them.

"Well, William," she ran a finger down his chest, "I believe my room is closer than yours. What do you say?"

Laurence did not say anything, only took her hand, and presenting her with a bashful smile, began leading her towards the barracks.

"Captain Laurence, I have been looking for you for ages!" a young runner ran to them just as they had entered through the barracks' front door. "Admiral Roland urgently wishes to talk to you in her office!"

Laurence and Emily exchanged worried glances.

"All right, I am going, thank you," Laurence told the little runner who hurried away with a relieved expression.

"I'll be waiting for you in my room," Emily said, giving his hand a squeeze.

He sent her a somewhat forced smile – he was not in the least sure he would be joining her in her room after the conversation with Jane Roland, for he had an odd sense of premonition that Jane wanted to talk to him about this almost-relationship. She might have seen them kissing on Temeraire's back, or even if she had not seen them in person, she might have heard about it. There had been just enough witnesses to spread the news…

"I love you," the girl said.

"I love you too," he replied, then took a deep breath, and headed for Admiral Roland's office.

oOo

"You wished to talk to me, Admiral."

"For heaven's sake, Laurence, call me Jane when we are alone," she sighed, looking extremely tired, "and have a seat. No, not before my desk, there," she pointed at a small table with a sofa and two armchairs. "What we have to discuss is no military business, rather something more… personal."

Laurence's heart sank. He had known it would be about Emily… Jane had ordered him to her office to tell him to stay away from her daughter. And well, she had every right to demand that of him, of a convicted traitor, of a man who was old enough to be Emily's father… and who had once been _her_ lover. Jane had made a mistake in getting involved with Laurence, and he could not blame her for wanting to save her daughter from making the same mistake.

Steeling himself for whatever was to come, Laurence took a seat on the sofa while Jane sat in one of the armchairs.

"Laurence, I will not be beating around the bush. I have seen you and Emily kissing yesterday. Do tell, how do you feel about my daughter?"

The man felt that his mouth had gone as dry as a parchment. His fears were coming true, and he could do nothing to stop them. But he would not lie. Jane deserved to know the truth. "I love her, Jane. With all my heart."

"And she? Do you think she loves you back?"

"She does."

The woman closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as though the mere thought of her daughter and her ex in love with each other had given her a serious headache. "Since when have you been… together?" she asked, her voice sounding oddly worried.

"Just… today. She has just told me she loved me, right before your runner told me you wanted to see me."

"You haven't slept with her then?"

"No, of course not!" Laurence replied quickly, only to blush at the thought that if the runner had not crossed their path, he would very likely be ripping off Emily's clothes right now.

"Thank heaven," Jane breathed, then, as if she had just realised she had unintentionally offended him, she carried on, "Pray do not get me wrong. I have nothing against you as a person, Laurence. You are a good man, traitor or not, and I would not mind seeing you with my daughter, were the circumstances different..."

"Different?" he frowned. She was behaving very curiously: there was insecurity in her behaviour, anxiety, and even… shame? Could Jane Roland be ashamed of anything?

"Laurence…" she hesitated for a moment, "it is not easy for me to tell you this… God, I do not think anything has ever been this hard!"

Laurence was truly at a loss now – Jane was simply not being herself. "Jane, what happened? Can I help somehow?"

"No, not unless you can turn back time and change the past…" A look of embarrassment flashed across her face, and her hands were shaking in her lap. "Laurence, remember when I told you that I didn't think Emily's father even knew her name? Well, in fact it was not only her name he did not know, but also her mere existence. He never knew we had a child as he never knew my name, and I didn't know his either until… until after you left for Australia."

Laurence furrowed his brow – he could not fathom what his departure for Australia could have to do with Emily's paternity. "I fear I am not following you, Jane."

She heaved a deep sigh and looked deep into his eyes. "Laurence… you are a religious man, if I am not mistaken… therefore you may not be involved with Emily, unless you want to live in a deadly sin."

"Deadly sin?" Laurence echoed her. He had never seen this woman looking so pale.

"Yes," she nodded. "Laurence… Emily's father is your father. You two are brother and sister."

oOo

**A/N: evil enough? Don't hesitate, pour your wrath upon me in a review (as long as you don't flame, LOL)!**


	3. The Masks We Wear

_T-2238: _your review made me laugh. Truly. XD

**Chapter 3**

**The Masks We Wear**

"WHAT?" Laurence breathed, his eyes widening. "Jane, I seriously hope you are only joking…"

"I wish it were a joke," she shook her head dejectedly, "but it is not."

"But… but… how?" Laurence choked.

"How?" Jane arched an eyebrow at him and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I thought you were quite aware of the birds and the bees, Laurence…"

"That is not what I meant!" he snapped, jumping up from his comfortable seat on the sofa. "How is this possible? You and my father? Jane, my father would never have cheated on my mother!"

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice maddeningly impassive.

The reply 'of course' was on the tip of his tongue, but his lips simply refused to form the words. With a sigh, he shook his head. "I have always known my father to be an honest man, one who keeps his promises, including the wedding vows… but I fear he never loved my mother. It was an arranged marriage like most in our circles… But it is still hard for me to imagine him…" he ran his fingers across his hair, hopelessly tousling it. "You have to understand, Jane…"

"I do," she stood up and stepped to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I can imagine how hard it must be to accept that someone you thought to be perfectly honest is… well… only human."

Laurence stared at her hand on his shoulder and muttered with downcast eyes, "We are too much alike, my father and I. I never thought I would ever say anything like this, but… we are. I have always strived to lead an honest life, and ended up betraying my king and country. How could I then have expected my father to be perfectly honest?" He paused for a moment, then looked into her eyes. "You said you did not even know who he was. Did _he _know who you were?"

Jane shook her head. "No, and I think he still does not know. I only found out his true identity seven years ago, when I took your letter to your mother to Wollaton Hall. I met him there, but he did not seem to recognise me. Then again, fourteen years had passed since we had first met and he was no longer a young man… not even middle-aged. He was old and sick. I cannot blame him for not recognising me, especially after only a one-night stand."

"How… how did you first meet?" he swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. Every word was sheer torture to utter.

Jane let her hand slip from his shoulder. "We met at a ball of some kind... drank more than we should have… and ended up in a hotel. We never asked one another's names and never expected anything of the other. Well, _he_ did not expect anything of me, that's for sure," she let out a tiny laugh, "but _I_ was hoping to produce an heir for Excidium, and he seemed just the right choice – a gentleman. Handsome, his manners smooth… he was quite the charmer."

"Are we talking about the same person?" Laurence raised an eyebrow at her. "My father never behaved like a charmer. He has always been the epitome of strictness and formalness… you know, sometimes I even wondered how on earth he and mother had ever managed to create George, Arthur and me…"

"Sometimes people wear masks, Laurence," Jane said, "just like I did that night for the ball. I wore one because of my fresh scar… and apparently he too had been wearing one, only not at the ball, but outside of it. In real life. Do you think people who are as stiff and formal as you claim your father is, do not wear masks? Do you think they do not wish to be different – to show their real self, the self that longs to enjoy life to an almost shameful extent? Do you not think your father could ever have wished to step out of formality and just… be a man, for a change? Not a lord, not a politician, not a reserved family man, only… a flesh and blood person? Would you deny him the right to that?"

"I… I think I would not," Laurence breathed, knowing well enough that his behaviour towards Jane had been very similar: he had always been formal and strict – although not as much as his father – but he had not hesitated for a second when Jane had first invited him into her bed. As they say, like father, like son. "I only wish… he had not cheated on my mother. She does not deserve to be cheated on."

"No, she does not," Jane nodded, "she seemed such an amiable person to me… Believe it or not, I hate to think that your father cheated on her with me. Had I known he was married…"

"…would you have stopped him?" he challenged.

Jane bit into her lower lip. "Perhaps. I don't know. But… I don't seem to remember seeing a wedding band on his ring finger…"

"A ring can easily be removed and slipped back on," Laurence replied darkly. He still had difficulties imagining that his father could sink so low… Suddenly a cold winter night came to his mind – a party held in London for the promotion of dragon welfare. At that party Lord Allendale had met little Emily and assumed that his youngest son was the girl's father.

_Oh, the goddamn irony,_ he groaned in himself. His father had thought Emily to be his illegitimate granddaughter, while she was his illegitimate daughter!

Laurence felt his hands ball into fists. His father, Mr. Perfection, had unknowingly ruined his son's only chance for happiness. For a fleeting few minutes Laurence had felt as happy as he had always longed to be: he had felt loved by the woman he could easily imagine as his life mate, and now it was all impossible, stolen from him by his father's unfaithfulness. Then again, had Lord Allendale not been unfaithful to his wife, Emily would not even have been born. And would the world not be lacking something without her?

Laurence felt angry tears prickling his eyes, but blinked them back. He would not break down in front of Jane. He had to stay strong and think with a clear head. After all, just an hour ago he had not even thought a relationship with Emily could be possible… could he not just sink back into the complete hopelessness that he had been in for years?

Something at the back of his mind told him that he could not. That everything had changed. That first kiss on Temeraire's back had changed it all, and Emily's love confession had made the changes irrevocable.

"Will you tell her, or shall I?" he asked, his voice raspy and hollow.

"Do we have to tell her at all?"

"Of course we do!" Laurence was scandalised to even think they could keep this a secret from Emily. Had he not been in love with her, he might have agreed to not tell her, but having confessed his love to her, he could not even consider the possibility of keeping this from her. "She might be my half-sister, Jane, but I still _love_ her, and _not _as a brother," he said, his eyes reduced to slits, "and I shall not let her think that I am rejecting her out of not loving her! I would never lie to her about my feelings. She has to know why it is impossible between us to…" He let out a frustrated sigh. "I cannot just tell her that I no longer want her, that all that I told her just half an hour ago was a blatant lie to get her to sleep with me!"

"Aha, so you _would have_ slept with her had I not stopped it!"

"Yes, Jane, I would have!" he threw up his hands. "And I am not ashamed of it! I love her, and she deserves to know the truth!"

The woman gulped, looking almost frightened of him – something that Laurence had never imagined possible. "Fine, Laurence," she said coldly. "So be it. But only she may know. I do not want anyone to start shouting it from the rooftops that I had slept with both the father and the son…"

"Why, are you afraid they would hold you for a slut?" he snapped, then froze, and for a long moment they just stared into each other's eyes, hers narrowed with disgust, his wide with horror. "Christ, I am sorry, Jane. I did not want to insult you… it is just…"

"Too much to accept at once," she sighed, her disgusted expression vanishing at once. There was sympathy in her eyes, friendliness even, as she added, "I know that, and I am not blaming you."

Laurence thought he should be feeling better, knowing that after all that had happened between them, the recent argument included, she still regarded him as a friend. But he could not help it, he did not feel any better, and he was sure he would not feel better for quite a while.

"I can tell her, if you like…" Jane began, but Laurence shook his head.

"No, I will tell her… but only tomorrow. I do not think I could face her right now…" _…and see her eyes light up with joy and desire when I rejoin her only to dash all her hopes for ever,_ he added in thought.

"All right," Jane nodded. "Perhaps it is better for her to learn it tomorrow when I'm not around… to have some time to come to terms with it before we meet again. Although this sounds a bit like if I was fleeing from her… like I was afraid," she shook her head with a sarcastic smile.

"Why, are you?" he challenged.

"Sort of," Jane admitted. "Heavens, Laurence, I never thought the time would come when I would fear my own daughter's opinion of anything I did… It's just damn ironic, is it not? But hell, I might well deserve it! I have no right to feel sorry for myself, only for you and Emily."

"I do no want your pity," the man replied coldly, "and I am sure neither does your daughter. She is young and strong, she will get over it."

"And what about you?"

"I do not matter," he shrugged. "Where are you going tomorrow, by the way?"

"London," Jane said dully. "They are holding some victory parade in Hyde Park, and Wellington said he was definitely expecting me to attend. I'm leaving before sunrise." When he did not say anything, she continued, "Laurence… I meant it: were the circumstances any different, I would not mind you being with my daughter."

He sent her a sour glance. "It does not matter what things would be like if the circumstances were different. They are not different. Good night, Jane." With that, he turned on his heels and marched out, slamming the door shut behind him. The corridor echoed with the sound, but Laurence did not mind. He could not vent his anger and frustration on Jane, for she was a woman and his superior, but if he happened to ruin a door or two, then so be it.

As he exited through the front door of the covert's main building and the fresh night air filled his nostrils, he felt most of his anger vanish, only sadness remained. He stopped in his stride and took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his mind. He had no idea how to break the news to Emily, and for a moment he regretted insisting to take the task from Jane, but he tried to reason with himself that it was best to tell her himself and use the opportunity to discuss their newfound brother-sister relationship at the same time.

"My sister," he muttered bitterly and kicked a stone, which only made his toes ache. But it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

If only he could call his father to account! But he could not, for that would either way result in his mother finding out, and it was the last thing he ever wanted. Her heart would break for sure… Laurence believed that his mother was not in love with his father just like his father did not love his mother, but he was still convinced that the news of Lord Allendale's unfaithfulness would terribly shake his mother.

There was a flash of light in the night, and he looked in the light's direction, wondering what it could have been. Then it was repeated: something small rocketed upwards and burst into golden sparks above. Fireworks. Probably someone of Maximus or Lily's crew had released them. He heard cheering and laughing in the distance, drifting towards him along with the delicious smell or roasting cows. Gong Su must be in his element, he thought tiredly.

For a second it crossed his mind that he should join the celebrating crowd to take his mind off his misery, but he found his legs did not cooperate. He sank onto a rock, feeling too weary to do anything, even to walk up to his room and sleep.

He did not know how much time had passed since he had dropped himself on the rock; he spent most of the time gazing at the dark grass beneath his feet and trying to come up with a decent way of telling Emily the truth, but the more he racked his brains, the more exhausted he felt, and sometimes he caught himself slipping off the rock when sleep had claimed him for a couple of minutes.

The cheering slowly faded in the distance, only the random singing of drunk aviators could be heard from time to time as they walked back to the barracks, and finally Laurence allowed himself to completely slide off the rock and fall asleep with his back propped against the cold stone surface.

At the first light of dawn, he was awoken by a hand on his shoulder. He squinted up at the slightly worried visage of John Granby.

"Hey, you okay?" Granby asked, his breath smelling of alcohol and his hair cascading untidily onto his shoulders, as if he had lost the ribbon to tie it back.

"I… I think so," Laurence replied, his mind too sluggish and hazy to remember things, especially the reason why he had been sleeping outside, leaning against a rock. "What happened?"

"The party's over," said Granby. "I'm off to bed now, and you should get some proper sleep too. Why on earth did you not come and join us? And if you needed some time alone, why not sleep in your comfortable bed instead of out here?"

_Really, why?_ – Laurence asked himself, and that was when all the events of the previous day and night came rushing back to him. _Bloody hell, Emily!_ – he stifled a groan, his heart quenching with worry, shame and love.

"Come," Granby offered a hand and he accepted, letting his friend help him up.

"Thanks," Laurence smoothed his coat as much as he could and rubbed the small of his back – the night spent sitting on the ground had made him stiff and achy all over. This painfully reminded him that he was not getting any younger, and the idea of ageing led to the thought that he had just lost his last chance for starting a family.

As if Granby had half-read his thoughts, he said, "It's a pity you missed the fireworks, and Gong Su's roast cows were very delicious, even the crews liked them, but of course Volly was his loudest fan. The bloke is getting rather popular here, and not only the dragons are delighted with him, one of Harcourt's lieutenants has taken a fancy to him, so I've heard, or perhaps she just likes his cooking, dunno… Anyway, the guy might be getting married any day now. Speaking of which, guess what Iskierka came up with last night! She said that now, with the war over, it was time for me to produce an heir for her! Can you imagine that?"

"Well… actually I can," Laurence replied, his lips almost tucking into a smile.

"Of course I told her that it wasn't that easy," Granby went on, "because I'm not like most aviators in this respect. I have been taught to honour the estate of matrimony and would not be willing to start a family without being married to my future children's mother. And then Iskierka said, 'get married, then, just make sure you still care more for me than for your eggs and their mother'. Typical, huh?"

"Yeah," Laurence said absent-mindedly.

"And what about you, old friend," Granby elbowed him in the ribs playfully, "any plans of producing an heir for Temeraire?"

Laurence gave the other man a sour glance. "No. I am of the same opinion as you are, marriage is necessary for that, but… who would want to marry me?"

"Well, perhaps that fiery little second lieutenant of yours?" Granby wriggled his eyebrows.

"No chance of that," Laurence replied darkly.

"No chance? Then what was that kiss, eh? Don't tell me you two were just too happy about the victory…"

Laurence heaved a sigh. "But that is exactly the case, John. It was a spur of the moment thing. There is nothing between her and me, and there never will be."

"Why, do you not like her? I bet any man in the Corps would be glad to win her affections…"

"Then I wish them good luck."

Granby stopped in his stride. "Are you kidding? Do you feel nothing for her?"

"What I feel for her is respect, and the love of a… father, or a brother."

Granby gave him an impish look. "You mean, nothing stirred down there when she was kissing you senseless?"

"It would have been thoroughly embarrassing if something had, don't you think?" Laurence replied sharply. "We were being watched by dozens, possibly hundreds of people and dragons alike."

"That does not mean something could not have stirred…"

"Nothing stirred, all right? Pray drop the topic, John."

"Fine… but you aren't having potency problems, are you?"

Laurence sent his friend a dark look. "I take this question as the work of alcohol, and let us forget you brought up the subject at all."

Granby shrugged. "All right. So… no chance of you and Emily?"

"None."

"Not even if _she_ wants it?"

"She could want it for all I care," Laurence grunted. "Such things require two people, and I am not participating. And if you will pardon me, I think I am going to sleep a bit now. In my bed for a change. I wish you good night… or good morning, John."

Granby frowned at him. "Who are you, and what have you done to my friend? Pray notify me once Laurence is back in your body. And good night to you too."

Laurence suppressed a sigh as he walked down the corridors towards his room. He felt guilty for having been so unfriendly with Granby, but he simply had not felt capable of discussing his feelings for Emily with anyone, and not only because Jane had asked him to keep his newfound family relations a secret, but also because it hurt too much just to think of it. Speaking of it would have been impossible without a nervous breakdown. Then again, Laurence knew he _had to_ talk to Emily about it, and prayed he would be able to keep his cool head during this awkward discussion. The last thing he wanted was to dissolve into tears before her, and he angrily noted to himself that he was very close to that. He felt as though invisible hands were clutching at his throat, compressing it to such an extent that it was hard for him to breathe, and there was a deadly weight crushing his heart – or the hollow, useless organ that currently functioned as his heart.

He wanted to get a few hours of sleep, hoping that once he felt somewhat refreshed, he would have enough strength to face Emily and tell her the truth. For he wanted to tell _her_ the complete truth, unlike he had done with Granby. He hated having to wear a mask of impassivity while his heart was bleeding, but he could not afford to let outsiders catch a glimpse of his vulnerability. It would be embarrassing enough if Emily happened to see it, and Laurence had set his mind on not letting anyone else see it. Before others, he would be wearing his mask, even before Temeraire, if he managed.

He opened the door of his room and entered without paying attention to his surroundings, and only upon closing the door behind him did he notice that he was not alone. Emily Roland was sitting on his bed, her arms crossed, her eyebrows knitted, her lips tucked into a pout. She was an angelic vision even despite her petulant expression, or perhaps because of it. Laurence felt his heart sink into his stomach and try as he might, he did not manage to produce the brotherly smile he had intended to wear upon facing her today. Then again, he had not expected to meet her for several more hours, and he had not yet fully prepared himself for the fateful encounter.

"I've been waiting for you all night," she said. "If the mountain will not come to Mohammed, Mohammed will go the mountain, so here I am, eager to hear your explanation."

"Uh…" Laurence loosened his neckcloth, sweating all of a sudden, "I…"

"Very eloquent," she said sarcastically. "Did my mother forbid you to start a relationship with me? Is that why you never came?"

Laurence leaned against the closed door for support. "No, Emily. It is not your mother who forbids it… but all the laws of God and man."

"I fear I don't understand," she shook her head.

"Emily… your mother wanted to talk to me because she had to tell me the truth about… your father."

"My father?" she echoed. "What does some unknown man have to do with anything? Who cares who he was, anyway?"

"I do," he said heavily, "for… apparently… he is my father too."

"What?" Emily's eyes bulged. "_Your_ father?"

"Yes, mine. Lord Allendale, whom your mother met at some ball twenty-one years ago. They did not even know each other's names when they… conceived you, and your mother only found out his when she met him several years later, at Wollaton Hall. He did not recognise her as the woman from that… one-night stand, though," Laurence finished, his cheeks glowing, although he knew it was not he who should feel ashamed, but his hypocritical father.

"And you believe what she said?" Emily asked in a cold voice.

Laurence was appalled – both by the iciness of her voice, and by her assumption that Jane Roland had possibly lied to him. "Emily, your mother is an honest woman! At least… I do not think she would ever lie, especially about something as serious as this! Could you imagine her trying to keep us apart by such an evil trick?"

She bit into her lower lip and stared at her hands folded in her lap. "Normally I could not… I know she's not a liar, but… who knows if she isn't just… jealous?"

"Jealous?"

She looked up and their eyes met. "She cares for you, William. More than an admiral does for a captain or a friend for a friend. I don't know what I would do in her place, if I loved you as much as I do and you wanted to start a relationship with _my _daughter…"

"Would you tell me a lie as terrible as this one?" he asked, his voice hollow and rigid.

"No," she sighed, "I don't think so."

"Then you can be sure she did not, either. I know human nature well enough, Emily… and I normally recognise it if someone is lying to me. Your mother was telling the truth. We are siblings."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she tore her gaze from his. "You're saying you know human nature well. Did you then figure that your father was a goddamn lecher?"

Laurence wanted to give her a sharp reply, but as the truth of her words sank in, he only heaved a sigh. "No. I did not. I never imagined him being capable of… Still, I never knew my father well enough; he kept his distance from everyone, me in particular. Your mother is much more open than my father ever was. She told me the truth. I know it."

Emily's lips twitched with what Laurence supposed was a heroic fight not to sob, and she said in a small voice, "I hope you don't intend to tell your father about me."

"No, not in the least. Your mother asked me to keep it a secret from everyone. Only the three of us know, and no one else should."

Emily nodded shakily, then froze for a long moment. Just as Laurence wanted to ask her if she was doing all right, she looked up, an odd fire blazing in her eyes. "You said no one knew? Only the three of us?"

Almost frightened by the look she was giving him, he nodded.

"Good," she stood up and took a step towards him. "We need not tell anyone, and I am sure Mother won't tell anyone either."

"What… what are you implying, Emily?" he gulped, almost wishing he could back away from her, but he was already pressed up to the door.

She took another step towards him. "I love you, Will. And not as your sister. If you still love me the same way you did yesterday…"

"Emily!" he breathed, all the blood running out of his face.

"Do you still love me, Will?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then? It's our secret!"

"Heavens, Emily, are you aware you are talking about incest?"

"Yes. And why not?" she put her chin out. "I won't let my happiness be ruined just because your father fucked my mother! I don't care about them, I care about _us_!"

For a moment Laurence closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm, as much as he could in given circumstances. "Well, I do care," he said finally. "I love you in every possible way a man can love a woman… but I will not play this game. It is sin, Emily. The worst kind of sin, and I do not want either of us to burn in hell for it. I expect it would be impossible for us to live and work next to each other after all this, so I will understand if you decide to transfer to another dragon. After Higgins' injury at Waterloo, Granby is a first lieutenant short, and you deserve a promotion. I am sure I could convince him to take you on."

"But Will…" She was openly crying now, stepping closer and closer, until their noses were almost touching. "I do not want to transfer… I do not want to leave you."

"I am sorry, Emily, but it will be best for both of us. Especially for you, because I will miss you like hell… but sooner or later you will come to realise that I am only doing the right thing."

Emily wiped her cheeks. "I doubt if I will… but you are my captain. I cannot disobey you. Be as you wish. Will you at least give me a last kiss?"

"Naturally," he gently caressed the side of her face, but as she puckered her lips to receive his, he fought down the urge to kiss her as she expected it, and pecked her gently on the forehead. "I love you, little sister."

o

**A/N: grace me with a review, please!**


	4. The Parting of the Ways

**Thanks for the reviews so far, people! :)**

_skeptic7_:True, Emily is an adult, but she's only 20. At 20 most people still rather behave like children than adults, I know lots of boys and girls in this age who have a lot less self control than Emily does. And the fact that she's Jane's daughter doesn't necessarily mean she must be as composed as her mother. They are not the same person, after all.

I agree that Jane should have told Laurence and Emily ages ago, but she never assumed they would fall for each other, as she – just like you – thinks the idea is preposterous.

The teacher/student relationship has happened before, in rather famous stories, so why couldn't it happen in my humble little fic(s)? Just think of Dumas' _The Count of Monte Cristo_, in which Haydee practically grows up as the count's adoptive daughter and slave (!), she's about twenty years younger than him, but eventually they get together. Or think of the rather sinful relationship between Meggie and Ralph de Bricassart in _Thornbirds_. He was her patron, her priest, her tutor, and eighteen years older than her. Yet they loved each other immensely. It is not in character for a Catholic priest to desire a girl who practically grew up as his 'daughter', but he still does. Laurence is no saint either. But he at least tries, you will see just how much he tries to keep away from anything sinful with Emily.

A child does not need to resemble both parents: I, for example only resemble my father, and do not take after my mother in appearance at all.

**Chapter 4**

**The Parting of the Ways**

"Sir, are you there, sir?"

Laurence noted to himself that someone was shouting in front of his door and occasionally even banging his fist against it. But perhaps he was just dreaming it, he could not decide.

When the shouting and the banging was repeated, he opened his eyes, and wished he had not done such thing, for as soon as his vision came to life, so did a horrible, throbbing pain in his head. Tentatively, he sat up, wondering for a moment what he was doing in his bed, fully clothed, in the daytime.

"Sir! Are you in there?" someone shouted once again, and although his mind was still very hazy, Laurence was quite sure the voice belonged to Sipho.

"Come in!" he shouted back, as much as he could force his vocal chords to produce a yell.

As the young midwingman burst through the door, and started jabbering, "Sir, Temeraire's been searching for you for hours, he's sick with worry that something might have happened to you", Laurence slowly realised what truly had happened. After his disastrous morning encounter with Emily, he had decided he badly needed something to help him forget, even if for only a short time, and despite it being morning, he had drunk a whole bottle of port and fallen into a stupor right after that. Now it was far from morning; judging by the lights beyond the window, it must have been late in the afternoon, probably shortly before dinnertime.

"I am fine, Sipho," Laurence rubbed his temples, trying to get rid of the ache inside of his skull, but it did not help in the least. "Pray tell Temeraire I am on my way. I will be with him in ten minutes."

"Are you sure you feel up to going down to him?" the boy gave him a dubious look. "Beg your pardon, sir, but you look too crappy for that."

"Thanks," Laurence sent his midwingman a bitter smile. "And no need to worry. A little hangover is nothing I cannot handle." With that he stood up, shed his coat and slouched to the basin. Bending over the basin, he poured the contents of a whole pitcher of cold water on his head. He shuddered, and although his headache did not abate, he felt refreshed enough.

"Here, sir," Sipho handed him a towel, and Laurence dried his face and hair as much as he could.

"Thank you. And Sipho, I would be much obliged if you did not mention this to anyone."

The boy grinned at him, his teeth practically shining in his dark face. "Don't worry, sir, my lips are sealed. I'm off to tell Temeraire you're coming."

"Good, please do that," Laurence sighed, examining the coat he had taken off in order to save it from getting wet. The coat looked exactly as it was expected of it after him having slept in it – it was full of wrinkles and beneath his dignity to wear it in public.

He fished his other coat – an older, shabbier, but clean and ironed piece – out of the wardrobe, and on still shaky legs, left his room.

On his way to Temeraire's clearing, he kept hoping he would not run into Emily – another encounter with her within a day would be a little too much to bear.

"Laurence, Laurence, you are here at last!" Temeraire greeted him with an enthusiastic roar, and immediately pulled him to himself, curling his tail around his captain. "Why have you not come all day? What happened? You look sickly pale! Are you ill?"

"I am fine, my dear, just a little tired, that is all."

"Tired? Because of last night?"

"What?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at his dragon, then understanding dawned on him – Temeraire was still in the belief that he had spent the night with Emily. "Oh, no. It has nothing to do with last night."

"No? Then why was Emily so upset, I wonder?"

"Upset?"

"Yes, I saw her around noon, walking around the dragon grounds with a haunted expression. She seemed very upset, but would not talk to me when I asked her what happened. She barely gave me a glance! Did I do something to hurt her? Or did you? Did she by any chance not like the mating with you?"

"The what?" Laurence blanched and cast a quick glance around to see if anyone might have overheard them. Thankfully there were no dragons or aviators in the vicinity. "No, Temeraire, there was no mating at all."

"Why not?"

"I… it is rather difficult, Temeraire… a long story…"

"Oh, I have a lot of time," the dragon bent his head on his foreleg with an expression of sheer anticipation.

"Temeraire, I cannot tell you this, only that she and I will never mate… or kiss… or do anything, actually."

"But why?" Temeraire pressed, his voice sounding petulant, as though he were a five-year-old child, not a ten-year-old dragon.

Laurence stifled a groan. Apparently he had been too naive to think he would be able to avoid telling Temeraire the news… Knowing his dragon, Temeraire would not leave him alone until he admitted everything.

"Let us go for a short flight, shall we?" he suggested in a resigned voice.

"And then you will tell me why you will not mate with her?"

"Yes, Temeraire, I will," Laurence patted the dragon's neck, although he thought with some pangs of remorse that he had probably never patted Temeraire as half-heartedly as he had now.

o

"So," Temeraire said after having silently listened to Laurence's summary of The News, "you two are siblings, and you claim that you cannot mate with her because of that. But Laurence, I do not understand why not…"

"Because it is sin, Temeraire!" Laurence snapped as he stared into the setting sun on the horizon. They were flying above the sea, the waves beneath them bathed in orange. Laurence felt as though the colour of the water had reflected his emotions: orange was very close to red, and red represented fury. Yes, he felt almost furious about the whole situation, and he did not even know whom he was exactly angry with: his father, who had cheated on his mother; Jane, who had slept with a random man without thinking of the possible consequences; Emily for being so difficult to convince that they needed to keep their relationship platonic; or God himself for having allowed things to get out of hand like this. "Siblings or other close blood relatives may not mate, it is again God's laws and those of mankind as well!"

"Really?" Temeraire asked. "Then why did Zeus and Hera have children together? Were they not brother and sister too?"

"Of course they were, but that is just mythology… it is like… fairy tales, only for adults. Nothing to be taken seriously. God's laws, however, _must _be taken seriously."

"I see… but is not your religion about love? Why would it be against you loving someone, even if you love them in a different way than you should?"

"Temeraire, I am sure God does not frown upon my feelings for Emily, for He knows that those feelings awoke in me long before I found out she was my sister, but God _would_ frown upon my feelings if I acted on them. I simply must not act on them, and then I am not committing a sin. At least… I think not."

"And what about providing an heir for me?"

Laurence's hands balled into fists, but he swallowed the snappy comeback that was on the tip of his tongue. "Pray forget that, my dear. I fear I cannot give you one. There were only two women in my life whom I would have liked to have children with. The first rejected me years and years ago, and Emily… well, you know my reasons."

"And can you not just give an egg to someone else?"

"My dear," the man heaved a sigh, "I know I should… that it should be my task to think of your future in this respect, but… I cannot just do it like Jane did: I cannot be that careless or amoral. I would only be willing to father children to a woman who is my wife, and I do not think anyone would be willing to have my child with or without marriage. Let us admit, there are not many candidates for marrying or even just bedding a convicted traitor. I have not had a woman for eight years, Temeraire… for aforementioned reasons."

"Oh, did you miss it a lot?"

Laurence almost let out a chuckle but managed to hold back. "Yes, I did. Any healthy male would. Like… I expect you too do sometimes…"

"Yes, I do," Temeraire admitted. "I have not had a female dragon since Pen Y Fan, and even though I did not much enjoy it there, as it was forced, it has been a long time..."

"Why, you could have had Iskierka, had you wanted her…"

"But I did not want her!" Temeraire craned his neck to look at his captain. "I might have wanted her, had she left me the choice to approach her… but she did not. You have always told me that it was the male who had to court the female, not the other way around! Having Iskierka badger me about the egg was simply… humiliating."

"I can imagine that," Laurence allowed himself a little smile. "It is a bit like if the cows were chasing the bulls…"

"Speaking of cows, I am hungry," Temeraire said. "Let us return to Dover, shall we?"

"All right, my dear. And remember what I told you: this is a secret. No one may find out. No one."

"I promise to not tell anyone," the dragon replied. "But Laurence… if you cannot expect to give me a future captain and you are missing women, at least visit some of the whores in Dover."

"My dear, I am not that desperate," Laurence blushed. "Pray drop the topic of women, shall we? Let us talk about something else."

"Right, let us talk about Waterloo!" Temeraire nodded eagerly. "I think Lien's demise will always be one of my favourite memories…"

"I can imagine that," Laurence gently patted the dragon's neck. He hoped the topic of mating was closed between them forever. Or at least for a very long time.

o

Before they touched down in the Dover covert, Laurence spotted Iskierka with Granby in a clearing not far from Temeraire's. Leaving his dragon to devour his evening cow, he set out for Iskierka's clearing.

"John, may I talk to you?" he addressed his friend with a hint of uneasiness in his voice. "Perhaps on our way to the dining-room?"

Granby nodded, and fell into stride next to him.

"John, I truly regret my behaviour this morning. I was not myself, as you put it. Please forgive me."

"Apology accepted," Granby flashed him with a smile, "though I'm still confused why you were the way you were…"

"Let us just say it is… family problems," Laurence replied, forcing his voice not to waver.

"Oh," Granby nodded, clearly assuming his friend had received bad news from home, but deciding not to pry. "I'm sorry, whatever it is."

"Thank you. I will get over it. However, there is one thing I would like to talk to you about. Are you still seeking a first lieutenant in Higgins' place?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well," Laurence said, more to his Hessian boots than to his fellow captain, "Admiral Roland would be happy if Emily got a chance to further advance, and I was wondering if you would accept her."

Granby stopped in his stride, his face radiating incredulity. "You cannot be serious!"

"Why? Do you find the idea to take her on impossible?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Granby shook his head. "Emily is a great aviator and she would be an asset to anyone's crew, but… why would _you_ let her go just like that?"

"I have given my reasons. Her mother wishes…"

"It is about that kiss, is it not?" Granby arched an eyebrow at Laurence. "You do not want people to start gossiping…"

"And what if that is at least partly the reason? Would it keep you from taking her on?"

"No, of course not, but I think you're overreacting things. One single kiss wouldn't ruin her reputation…"

"…even if it was shared with a traitor?" Laurence asked sharply. "No, John, I would not risk it. She means too much to me." At another dubious glance from Granby, he hastily added, "She is like a sister to me. I have to think of her future."

"As you wish, Laurence. We can talk to her after dinner, how about that?"

"Sounds good. And thank you, John, I am in your debt."

o

Emily was sure she had never had as horrible a day as the previous one had been. Just twenty-four hours ago she had been the happiest woman on Earth, knowing that her Will loved her, but the night had brought insecurity when he had not appeared, and the morning had given her the worst shock ever. She wished her mother had not left for London, for she felt like giving her a piece of her mind, but in her mother's absence even that was impossible, leaving Emily hollow, desperate and frustrated. How she longed to be able to vent her fury somehow, to find a scapegoat to blame… but all had been denied her.

A few hours after her morning encounter with Laurence her tears had ebbed. She could no longer cry even if she wanted to, and without the refuge of crying, she did not know what to do with herself, with her jumbled thoughts, and especially the ache in her heart.

By dinnertime Emily had made her decision that she could not avoid people forever, and after all, she was a Roland, and Rolands were tough; she would somehow get over this. Not that she would ever love another man – no, she was sure her heart would never belong to anyone else but her Will –, but she had a long life and bright career before her: even if her private life was and would remain a failure, she could still excel in her profession. And if she wanted to live up to the name Roland, she could not hole up in her room or in a distant corner of the dragon grounds.

She wolfed down her dinner without really paying attention to what she was eating, deliberate to keep her eyes on her plate. It was hard enough even without feeling others' curious glances upon her due to her puffy cheeks and blood-shot eyes; she refused to meet their glances and give them a chance to ask awkward questions. She only hoped she would be able to avoid Laurence's eyes as well, but upon rising from her seat to leave the building, the first person she ran into was him.

"Emily," he gave her a watery smile, "Captain Granby and I would like to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

She nodded jerkily and followed him to the corridor where Granby was waiting for them with his shoulders sagged, looking overall like a fifteen-year-old kid not like a thirty-five-year-old captain.

"Lieutenant Roland," Granby cleared his throat and drew himself up, "Captain Laurence has told me he was willing to give up on you to secure your advancement."

"Has he?" Emily said sarcastically. "How gallant of him."

"Yes," Granby folded his hands behind his back, looking embarrassed and boyish again. As she glanced at Laurence, she saw that his cheeks were equally flushed. "Er… would you mind joining my crew, as my first lieutenant?" the younger captain carried on, and Emily could not fathom why he was blushing at all. She fully understood Laurence's blush, but Granby's was a mystery.

"Well," she crossed her arms, giving Laurence an icy glance, "since my captain decided to pass me down, I have no choice left, do I? I accept your offer, Captain Granby." Aiming a stab at Laurence, she added, "I am sure we shall get along beautifully, much better than we ever did with my former captain."

Granby seemed slightly confused for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Then welcome to my crew, and congratulations on your promotion, First Lieutenant Roland." He held out his right hand that Emily took and shook, perhaps a little too roughly. Granby stifled a hiss as he pulled his hand back, and Emily had to fight down a smirk. These two had decided about her future behind her back, so the least she could do was aim scathing remarks at one of them and cause physical pain to the other. Although she would have loved it to be Laurence's hand – or possibly another body part of his – that she could clutch at and press until its owner saw stars. But not even that would be punishment enough for him, nothing would!

Deep down Emily knew that Laurence was doing the gentlemanly thing in parting ways with her, but she could not have cared less for their blood relation. She loved him, and nothing changed that, and in rejecting her advances he might have been doing something right in the eyes of God and society, but he most definitely was committing an unforgivable sin against her.

"When shall I appear for tomorrow's patrol, Captain?" she asked Granby, who, still rubbing his aching right hand with his left, managed a wheezy reply, "Nine o'clock sharp. Until then… good night, Lieutenant Roland."

"Good night to you too, Captain Granby and Captain Laurence," she said, and turning on her heels, marched back to her room.

Banging the door shut behind her, she found that her tears had not ebbed completely, and she dropped herself on the bed, sobbing. If she had been thinking that nothing worse could come after Laurence's announcement in the morning, she had been wrong. He had severed all ties between them – not only the ones in their private life, but also the ones they might have had in the course of duty. She had never been this close to hating him.

oOo

Still shaken by what he had done – having let go of Emily forever – Laurence decided he badly needed Temeraire's company, and spent the night tucked into a blanket on the dragon's foreleg.

He was awoken shortly before breakfast time by the wind produced by a pair of enormous wings.

"Hey, Laurence," Jane Roland slid down Excidium's side and walked up to him, "Wellington sends you this. It's still unofficial, but you can be sure you will be getting the official version with the Prince Regent's signature soon." With that she pushed a letter into his hands, then hurried towards the barracks buildings before he was able to fully wake up and say thanks at least.

"What is it, Laurence?" Temeraire yawned just as Excidium took off for his own clearing.

"Some letter… from Wellington," the man muttered, his brain still working too slow.

"Well, open it, then," the dragon gently nudged him with his muzzle.

"Uh… yes, right," Laurence broke the seal and rolled out the paper. For a few seconds his eyes skimmed the letter, quickly reaching from the top to the bottom, then just stared at it with a blank expression.

"What happened? Bad news?"

"No. Not exactly," Laurence muttered. "Wellington writes he mentioned my case to His Royal Highness, and the Prince Regent agreed that my sentence needs to be revised. They are likely to let me stay in Britain, although under strict supervision."

"Oh, but Laurence, that is wonderful news, is it not?" Temeraire said with enthusiasm. "I am so very happy! But… you do not seem happy at all…"

The captain shook his head. "You might think I am ungrateful and selfish, but I was half-hoping they would send me back to Australia. To be as far from Emily as possible. It will be so hard to even see her… even if only for a few minutes at breakfast and dinner every day… But I know I cannot be this selfish. You love it here, my dear, and I cannot force you to go back to Australia just to relieve me of my lovelornness."

"Laurence, I hate to point it out, but there is no word like 'lovelornness'." When his captain did not reply just stared at the grass beneath Temeraire's foreleg, the dragon added gently, "If you think you could not live here and see her every day… then let us go back to Australia. I do not mind where I am, as long as we are together."

Laurence looked up at him, too shocked and touched to speak for several seconds. When he finally found his voice, he asked, "Are you sure, my dear? This decision might be irrevocable and you might regret it later."

"No, Laurence," Temeraire pressed his muzzle to his captain's face, "I would never regret choosing to follow you, wherever you go."

"I love you, Temeraire," Laurence muttered, tears running down his cheeks. He might have lost Emily's love, but Temeraire's would be his forever. And that might be just enough.

o

All day during patrol duty Laurence was pondering how to tell Jane that he would like to return to Australia without appearing to be ungrateful. Eventually he decided that perfect honesty was the best solution, even if she would think him a sentimental fool for it. After dinner, he steeled himself for a possibly awkward discussion, and set out for her office.

Since at this fairly late hour the corridors around were deserted and quiet, Emily's shrill voice came loud and clear through the Admiral's door.

"Of course, you're perfectly innocent! You just fucked with a random man who caught your eyes at a party and you didn't even feel necessary to ask his goddamn name! You behaved like a common whore, and you expect me to not feel furious?"

Before Laurence knew what he was doing, he burst into the room, slammed the door shut and shouted at her, "Don't you ever dare insult your mother like that! I am ashamed of you, Emily!"

"Ashamed, William?" she snapped. "Are you telling me that you aren't mad at her for sleeping around and ruining others' happiness in the process?"

"One, your mother does not sleep around, and two, if she did not sleep with your father… _our_ father, then you would not even be here! You have your life to thank to her, and she does not deserve to be talked to like this!"

"You aren't my father to tell me off, nor are you my captain any more!"

"That is right, but I am your big brother," Laurence replied. "Apologise to your mother this instant."

Emily, however, merely sent him a piercing stare, and marched out without giving her mother a second glance, banging the door shut upon her exit.

It ran through Laurence's mind that the poor door had suffered _his _anger two days earlier, and if people kept slamming it like that, it would sooner or later shatter.

As he tore his gaze from the door, Laurence realised that Jane had not said a single word – she had not told her daughter off for the insults, neither had she defended herself in any way. As he glanced at her, he was taken aback by the sight – there were unshed tears in her eyes, her lips were trembling and so was her whole body.

With two big strides he crossed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. She kept shaking for several minutes, although Laurence was sure she was not crying for real. His heart quenched at life's irony: it was Emily whom he loved and yet it was Jane whom he was trying to console; it was Jane whom he felt some sort of anger with – be it justified or not – and yet it was Emily whom he had reprimanded.

"You know… what the worst is?" Jane drew back a bit, her voice raspy with the effort of keeping her tears at bay. "That she's right. I am truly no better than a common whore."

"Jane, what are you talking about?" Laurence said gently, running his fingers across her greying hair.

"I should have asked his name," she muttered.

"Yes, I believe you should have, but you are not the first person to sleep with someone whose name they do not even know."

"Why, have you too?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"No," he let out a small laugh, "but I did have my share of one-night stands when I was younger, and in some cases I only knew their first names. That is not much better, and I am not proud of it, but I still would not call myself a man-whore for that. Pray do not talk about yourself in such a demeaning manner."

"But… are _you_ not angry with me? You have just as much right to feel angry as Emily does…"

"I would be lying if I said I did not feel any kind of anger, but it is not directed at you… or not only at you. I am blaming life in general. Life likes to be mean to me," he shrugged. "I hope Emily will soon realise that she was wrong and will stop blaming you. If I had to find a scapegoat, I would rather choose my father for the role. He was married, you were not. You were innocent. Well, _almost_."

Jane's lips tucked into a grin. "Yeah, I suppose…_ almost_. I was not exactly a blushing virgin when I met your father, I had had two before him and… more than two after him."

"Then you beat me," Laurence said with a bashful smile. "You have had at least two more than I ever did."

"Hah!" Jane laughed out and boxed into his arm. "Tell you what, I might have had a few, but it has been too long since the last one. What about you?"

Laurence flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. He had never imagined he would ever have a discussion like this with her, or with anyone, for that matter. "The last one was with you, Jane."

"Eight years?" her eyes widened as soon as she had done the maths. "Wow. How did you make it?"

"Self-discipline."

"Enviable self-discipline," she smirked. "I wish I had it myself… but I fear it has just flown out the window."

Laurence instinctively looked at the window, then understanding dawned on him, and he felt his cheeks glow worse than ever, especially when Jane stepped to the door and turned the key, then walked back to her desk and slipped on its top with a meaningful glance.

Laurence tried to reason with himself that it would not be appropriate to use Jane's emotional vulnerability, but judging by the feral expression on her face, it was probably she who intended to use him. And well, eight years were a long time…

Pushing his doubts, his shame and his love for Emily to the back of his mind, he willingly surrendered to Admiral Roland.

oOo

**A/N: reviews would be most welcome.**


	5. Moving On

**A/N: thanks to everyone for the reviews!**

Imagine what I dreamed one night: in my dream I was writing a Temeraire/Harry Potter crossover fanfic in which the human Temeraire characters were eleven years old and went to Hogwarts. Lord Allendale was sure his youngest son would be a Slytherin, but no, our dear little Laurence became a Gryffindor. :D Honestly, I couldn't imagine Laurence in any other Hogwarts house. Neither Granby. But I wondered (after I woke up) where Jane would be? Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? Lady Allendale surely would be a Hufflepuff... And if Temeraire were a human? Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? What do you think? I'd put Iskierka into Slytherin. ;)

**Chapter 5**

**Moving On**

"So," Jane panted, "why exactly have you come?"

"I forgot," Laurence panted back, his nose buried in her tousled tresses. "No, I remember," he admitted with a hint of shame as soon as his mind was in working order again, "I wanted to ask you if I were allowed to return to Australia if I wished."

"What?" she gasped.

"Jane, I do not mean to appear ungrateful, but…"

"But what, Laurence? I thought you wished nothing more than to stay here."

"For a while I truly did," he swallowed, his face still buried in her neck, as if he were afraid to look her in the eye. "But… things have changed."

She tightened her grip on the back of his shirt. "Is it because of Emily?"

"You know it is," he sighed into her hair. "I cannot stand staying around her, seeing her every day… I have asked Granby to accept her as his first lieutenant… and I hope you do not mind that I told him it was partly your wish. This way Emily and I will not be on the same crew, but even like this, I am still too close to her… and I cannot bear that. I love her so much it hurts."

"Do you realise it is very ungallant to talk of your love for another woman while you are still inside of me… even if that woman happens to be my daughter?" Jane asked half-sarcastically, half-jokingly.

"Good Lord, Jane, I am sorry," he drew back, gently pulling her with himself until she was seated on the edge of her desk.

"Do not be," she patted his glowing cheeks, "I haven't had this much fun for years."

"I am glad to have been of service," he replied, bending to retrieve certain articles of his clothing. He was in fact grateful for the opportunity to look elsewhere but at her – he was not sure he could meet her eyes without guilt. He felt just guilty enough without that. "But… what do you say to my request?" he said, still not meeting her eyes.

"I say you need time to think it over," she slipped off the desk and hastily began dressing. "You are talking out of sheer emotion and leaving rationalism completely out of the picture, which is a dangerous thing, Laurence. A decision made out of sentimentalism or hot-headedness may be sorely regretted later. Does it sound familiar?" she asked challengingly, sleeking back her hair and fastening it into a bun.

Laurence nodded uneasily. He knew well that his decision of taking the cure to France had been made of sentimentalism and hot-headedness, just as Jane had put it. Then again, she had always been the rational one while he was the 'damned romantic' as Wellington had once called him.

"Do not be rash, dear fellow," she carried on, dropping herself into the cushioned armchair behind her desk. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the shiny mahogany surface with so much casualness that Laurence could not help thinking he would never be able to look at this desk without blushing. "I am giving you time to think it over. You are getting one week off, starting right tomorrow. Feel free to visit your family, or do whatever you please as long as you don't leave Britain. Then I want you to spend three months at Gibraltar on patrol duty. That place is far enough, but it is not at the end of the world. I expect you to be back by the end of September, and then you can tell me if you still want to go back to Australia. More than three months should suffice to help you calm down and rearrange your thoughts, should it not?"

Laurence could not argue with that. "You truly deserve to be an admiral, Jane, you know how to manage people."

"Thank you, but no flattery needed," she gave him a crooked smile. "What you muttered to me just five minutes ago was flattery enough."

Laurence reddened again. "I fear I do not remember what…"

"Then let me refresh your memory. You called me 'hot'. 'Wild'. And my favourite, 'fucking awesome'. Or was that 'awesome fucking'?" she let out a throaty laugh. "You are such a gentleman on the outside, but you tend to have a dirty mouth in bed, which is… I cannot help it… very exciting."

"Jane," Laurence tucked a stray lock behind his right ear, more embarrassed than ever, "may I remind you that we did not do it in a bed this time?"

"Mm, not that I could ever forget that," she grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I always wanted to try it somewhere else. Thank you for that, dear fellow, you have brought variety into an old lady's dull life. Well," Jane leaned back into her chair, forming a tower of her fingers, "come back tomorrow morning for your written orders. You are dismissed for today, Captain Laurence."

Trying not to flush even more, Laurence bowed. "Good night to you, Admiral Roland."

o

Smoothing his still slightly wrinkled coat and his ruffled hair, Laurence walked down the empty corridor that led onto a cloistered courtyard. The night was balmy, heavy with the scent of wild flowers, and the only sound was the chirping of crickets. Laurence felt physically too tired to dwell on his misery, or to dwell on anything. It was a welcome tiredness; for a short time he could be just a man pleasantly exhausted, his thoughts and feelings still repressed by the effort he had put into his most recent endeavours. Guilt over having had sex with Jane again settled on his heart, but only lightly: he was too tired to even let it properly engulf him. Probably the next day, when he was refreshed enough to think, he would allow guilt to claim him as much as he deserved it. But not now.

The calmness and quietness around him was so deep that he was almost frightened when a voice called out to him from the darkness, "You know, you should have been a little more discreet, even if Mother was not."

Laurence strained his eyes, and after a few seconds spotted a dark figure sitting between two pillars of the cloister. Feeling his heart sink into his stomach, he took a step towards her.

"What are you doing here, Emily?"

"I wanted to go back and apologise," she said dryly. "After you told me off, I fumed for a while, then realised you were right… at least partly. So I wanted to go and tell Mother I did not mean what I told her, or at least… not completely. But guess what I heard when I returned half an hour later?"

Laurence swallowed hard. "Were we… _that_ loud?"

"Yes," she said testily, "and I must admit I was taken aback by your vocabulary, Mr. Perfect Gentleman! 'Fucking awesome', eh? Mother must have been doing something really well."

Laurence felt rivulets of sweat run down the sides of his face and the so-far suppressed guilt bit into his heart. But he did not want her to know how guilty he felt. "Odd," he said in a flat voice, "I never remember the things I say while… Christ, this is awkward." His legs going weak all of a sudden, he sank down next to her and leaned against a pillar. Perhaps guilt and shame were still stronger than his will…

"Awkward is a bit of an understatement," Emily said icily, and he was grateful for the darkness, for he was sure if he were able to see her, he would see just as much coldness in her eyes as he felt in her voice. "I have always been aware that my mother was not a gentlewoman, but I thought at least you were different… Call yourself damn lucky that no one else walked around here in the past half an hour!"

"Emily," he began, not really knowing what to say, "I… I am sorry."

"Sorry?" her voice sounded doubtful and outraged.

"Yes, sorry." He heaved a deep breath. "You have no idea how much happier I would have been if it were you, not her…" He instinctively reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me," she shrugged his hand off. "I should not like to imagine where your hands were just ten minutes ago!"

Thankful that the night hid his blush, Laurence stood up. "You are right. I feel ashamed enough, if that helps."

"Do you think it helps?" she asked sharply.

Laurence shook his head, although he was not sure she could see it at all. "I mean it, Emily. As much as I like Jane, I would rather have had you…"

"You _could have_ had me," she jumped up from her seat, "but you turned me down!"

"You know I had to. _My_ soul does not matter much, it will probably burn in hell for my treason anyway, but yours does not need to suffer the same fate. I am not going to sin with you, Emily. Accept that, and please, move on."

"Right," she drew herself up, "that is exactly what I shall do, Captain Laurence. And just a pointer for the future: be sure to make less noise next time around; not everyone in the covert is interested in your sexual escapades!" With that, she turned on her heels to march away.

"Wait, Emily! What about the apology to your mother?"

"I have decided she no longer deserves it," she replied scathingly, and after a few seconds the sound of her steps died away, leaving Laurence alone with his shame and despair. Yes, he decided, leaving Europe was definitely an appealing idea.

oOo

His heart hammering in his throat, Laurence looked down at the lovely country house of Wollaton Hall. Eight years earlier he had been sure he would never come here again, and he still could not be sure if he would be allowed entrance at all. But he had to try, for his mother's sake at least. The dear Lady Allendale would undoubtedly be happy to see him alive and healthy.

"Temeraire, let us touch down," he gently patted the dragon's neck, and Temeraire navigated himself onto a clearing not far from the pen full of cows. "I see you are hungry," Laurence stifled a chuckle and slid down the dragon's side. "I will try to talk to someone in the house, and if they let me stay, I shall come back and help the harness off you."

"Oh, it is just one week, Laurence, pray do not worry about it," Temeraire replied. They had come without the crew, and the dragon's harness was way too heavy for one single man to manage. "Just remember that most dragons barely ever had their harness removed before you brought me to Britain… If they could endure it, so can I."

Giving Temeraire an absent-minded smile, his mind already drifting far from managing harnesses, Laurence set off for the house. He was prepared for complete rejection by his family and disrespect even from the footmen and the maids. Then again, could he expect to be respected by them? By anyone? No. He had long lost his right to that.

Before he could even step on the neatly paved garden path leading to the front door, the door itself swung open and a small figure hurried outside, surprisingly fast for her old age, and before Laurence could say a word, she threw herself into his arms.

"Will, oh, Will," she muttered, holding him in a vice-like grip that Laurence assumed was meant to be gentle and motherly but it nearly caused him pain.

"Mother," he whispered into her silver hair, tears welling up in his eyes. When he had left for Australia, he had not expected to meet her ever again. And it had been her whom he had missed the most all these years. He, Temeraire and the crew had returned to Britain over a year earlier, but the year had been spent with fighting and he had barely had time to send Lady Allendale a note to let her know he was back.

"I thought I would never see you again," she carried on in a wheezy voice, and both her voice and the trembling of her body in his arms suggested that she was crying. "Oh, Will, my son…"

"I am back, Mother," he said, caressing the soft silver tresses. "I am back and I am… allowed to stay."

"What?" she drew back, her face lit up, her eyes wide and tearful, but he was sure that those were tears of happiness. "You are allowed to stay?"

"Yes," he said, wondering why he had told her at all. He had, after all, meant to return to Australia, and now, having revealed to his mother that he was allowed to stay, he could not simply add, '_but I still want to leave'_… And the truth was that for the time being, holding his beloved mother in his arms, he did not want to leave. Not at all.

As he breathed in her scent of lavender and honey, the scent of home and safety he had so cherished in his childhood, memories awoke in him – memories he had long forgotten. He saw before his mind's eyes boys chasing each other across the meadows, and a little girl, barely able to walk giggling at them from her mother's arms… Then he saw the same little girl grow older, walking hand in hand with the youngest of the boys… and he saw the youngest boy share his first ever kiss with the girl under a majestic oak. She had dandelions woven into her hair. The memories were bittersweet, making him wonder if they had been real at all, if he had ever been that carefree, if he had ever kissed Edith Galman under the oak, if he had ever hoped for true happiness…

Happiness, just like his long gone childhood felt unreal and out of reach. Just as he was about to blink back the tears that had evilly welled up in his eyes, he heard a rigid voice from the front door, "Still alive, are you?"

Releasing his mother, he looked over her shoulder at the old man standing on the porch. Lord Allendale had aged a lot since Laurence had last seen him, but although he looked much older now, he looked strong and healthy; apparently he had managed to recover from his illness. Laurence was not sure how he should feel about the man standing just a dozen yards away – he knew he was supposed to be happy or at least relieved to see him as fit as a fiddle, but he could not forget the fact that this was the man who had crushed all his dreams in a single act of unfaithfulness. His father was a traitor, although not that of England like he, Laurence, was, but a traitor of his marriage. And Laurence could no longer feel any respect for him.

"Sir," he bowed his head as little as possible, "I am alive indeed, and I am sorry if that causes you any discomfort. I do not wish to impose, I only wanted to see Mother and tell her I was doing fine. I am leaving right away–"

"Do not be stupid," Lord Allendale grunted, "your Mother has thought she would never see you again, and I am not robbing her of the… _pleasure_ of your company. I wanted to leave for London one of these days anyway, it does not matter if I leave a day early." With that he inclined his head, though even less than Laurence had, and, turning on his heels, disappeared into the house.

"Pray do not get offended," Lady Allendale took her son by the arm. "You know your father, William..."

"Yes, Mother," he sighed. _Much better than you do._

o

Life at Wollaton Hall was almost like a fairy tale – Laurence felt that at least a tiny part of his childhood had returned, especially when he set out for long walks with his younger nephews and nieces. The older ones usually stayed in the manor, stating that a game of tag was too childish for them, but the younger ones were always willing to chase each other across the fields and involve Uncle William in all their little schemes.

For a short while Laurence felt he had what he had always dreamed of: a family. He was surrounded with children who had taken to him in an instant, and he was grateful to his brother George and his sister-in-law Elisabeth for not telling their younger children of their uncle's 'misdeeds'. He was sure that the oldest three of George's offspring knew about his treason and he assumed that it must be at least partly the reason why they never wanted to join him in whatever he did; but the younger four were blissfully oblivious. He also had a suspicion that it had not been George or Elisabeth who had filled the heads of their older children with horror stories of his treason, but Lord Allendale himself. And knowing Lord Allendale's rigorous style of lecturing the young ones, Laurence was not in the least surprised by the icy politeness George's eldest sons treated him with.

Aware that he could not do much in a single week to gain the confidence or at least the sympathy of his oldest nephews, Laurence devoted all his attention to the younger ones, especially five-year-old Felicity who had taken a liking to Temeraire at first sight, demanding that Laurence take her and her siblings on a dragon ride. Felicity seemed unafraid of anyone or anything – in this respect she resembled her grandmother – and she had a strong opinion of everything which tended to drive her into quarrels with others, especially with her six-year-old brother, Jeremy.

"But you can't marry Father," Laurence heard Jeremy tell Felicity one day, "because he's already Mother's husband."

"All right," she shrugged, "then I'll marry Uncle Will. Will you marry me, Uncle Will?"

His mouth twitching from trying to hold back his laughter, Laurence shook his head. "I fear I cannot, sweetie. I am too old for you."

"Yeah, besides, he's too closely related to you," said Kathleen, the nine-year-old know-it-all of the family. "Close relatives cannot marry, it's yucky and forbidden."

Laurence caught himself no longer paying attention to their childish quarrel, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The sun stood high over the birch trees that he and Edith had so loved to stroll under, and yet now he did not see Edith, he only saw Emily with a sad little smile on her face.

"Is it true, Uncle Will?" Felicity tugged at the cuff of his shirt, dragging him back to reality.

"Yes, Felicity, I am afraid it is," he replied, trying to banish all sadness from his voice. He was not going to let his own bad mood ruin the children's.

"Then will you marry someone else?" the little girl cocked her head, her huge brown eyes radiating true interest.

"No, sweetie, I do not think so." He caught his mother's searching glance, then quickly looked away.

"But you should," Felicity insisted. "You are very cute, I'm sure there are many-many girls who would like to marry you! Right, grandma?"

"Well, he is handsome indeed," Lady Allendale said with a smile, placing both hands on Felicity's shoulders, "and I would not mind if he gave me a few grandchildren…"

"Mother, you have nine already," Laurence sighed. Arthur, the second of the three Laurence brothers had fathered two girls.

"Yes, but my daughter-in-laws are both past their child-bearing years," Lady Allendale reminded him, "and it is always nice to have a new baby in the family."

"I am sorry, Mother, but you cannot count on me in this respect."

"Why, Uncle Will, does the stork never visit the place where you live?" Felicity asked.

"No, sweetie, the stork has lost the map," Laurence ruffled his niece's hair.

"Too bad," the little girl sighed, then her face brightened. "What about a flight on Temeraire before lunch? Can we go, grandma? Can we?"

Lady Allendale heaved a sigh. "Only if you promise to eat all the spinach afterwards. And Will, make sure they are all properly strapped in."

"I will. Pray do not worry, Mother."

o

But Lady Allendale did worry, and not even for the children's safety, for she trusted both her son and Temeraire, rather for her son who was behaving oddly.

That evening, when William was inside, telling sailor and aviator stories to his eager little audience, Lady Allendale left the house and sought out Temeraire. The dragon's muzzle was covered with blood and mud after he had tried to wash himself in the shallow pond without much success, yet the elderly woman did not find him frightening at all.

"William will soon come and help you wash," she said as she walked to him, lifting the hem of her skirt to avoid stepping on a discarded leg bone that had recently belonged to a cow.

"But you have not come to tell me this," Temeraire perceived.

"No," she shook her head. "I wanted to ask you what happened to my son."

"What do you mean, my lady? A lot of things have happened to him since you last saw him… like, he was badly beaten in a scuffle shortly after we arrived at Australia, but thankfully Granby and Tharkay helped him out, Tharkay had allegedly even used a chair to beat those who had beaten Laurence…" Seeing the lady blanch, he said thoughtfully, "I expect this was not what you wanted to hear… Well, there were nicer things as well… like, when he saved that idiot Blight, you know, the one who had been the captain who had been mutineered against on the _Bounty_…" At Lady Allendale's frown, Temeraire let out a sigh, flattening his ruff to his neck. "What do you wish to know, my lady?"

"William seems sad, Temeraire. He tries to look happy when he is around the children, but I can see it in his eyes… he looked especially sad when Felicity asked him about marriage. Do you think he is still in love with Edith Galman?"

"Who? I have no idea who you are talking about, but no, most certainly not," the dragon shook his head.

"But he _is_ in love, is he not?"

"I may not talk about this," Temeraire said, looking uneasy, as much as a dragon of his size could manage that.

"Then the answer is obviously yes, and it must be unrequited love, otherwise William would not be so sad," Lady Allendale sighed. "I should have known. It was very tactless of me to demand grandchildren from him in the circumstances…"

"But your tactlessness did not come from evilness, only from ignorance," Temeraire said helpfully. "Besides… no, it is not unrequited love. It is just impossible."

"Why?"

"It is forbidden. I mean, both the love, and for me to talk about it. Oh, see, there is Laurence coming to wash me!"

"Well then, good night, Temeraire," Lady Allendale resisted the urge to pat the dragon's muzzle that was still dripping with blood and mud.

"Good night to you too, my lady."

oOo

"Do you still think of her?" Temeraire asked, shaking Laurence out of his after-lunch stupor. They were lying under a tree that offered very little shelter from the sweltering rays of the August sun. The sea sparkled azure beneath the rocks of Gibraltar, and somewhere beyond the mist settled on the horizon a hazy shape must have been Mount Atlas.

"Yes," Laurence replied sleepily. "Every day."

Temeraire nodded sadly. There was no explanation needed whom the dragon was referring to, nor whom Laurence though of when answering.

"Do you think she thinks of you too?"

"I hope not," came the hollow reply.

"Why not? Would it not flatter you to think she is thinking of you?"

"Of course it would," Laurence sighed, "but I cannot be so utterly selfish to want her to think of me. It would only hurt her, and I do not want her to hurt. I hope she has moved on. I truly do, Temeraire."

"And you? Will _you_ ever move on?"

Laurence's gaze followed a seagull flying in circles around the rocks. "Time will tell. I cannot be sure what I will find when I return to Dover."

"Does that mean… you have not yet decided whether you want to leave for Australia?" Temeraire asked, his heart swelling with hope.

"No, my dear. I _have_ decided. I am staying in Europe. For Mother's sake."

"Even if it hurts you to see Emily?"

"Sometimes you need to push your own needs and your own misery out of your mind to make others happy."

"But you have not done _anything_ but pushing your own needs aside and making others happy!" Temeraire said, scandalised. "You have never made _yourself_ happy!"

"You are talking as though I had a choice here."

"You do have a choice: you can stay, or you can return to Australia."

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," Laurence said heavily. "I do not have a choice regarding Emily. It is not like I had a chance to be happy with her. That is not an option, and I have accepted it. I have had two months to think, my dear, and it has been enough to come to terms with it."

"Are you sure?" Temeraire cocked his head with a dubious expression.

"Yes," Laurence replied, gazing at the hazy Mount Atlas from under furrowed brows. "I am a survivor, remember? I have lost more than most, yet I have always survived. I am strong and healthy."

"Physically, perhaps. But… is your heart strong and healthy?"

"What if it is not?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at this dragon. "Does that change anything? I will not flee, Temeraire! Leaving for Australia would mean letting my mother down, letting Jane down, letting even… Wellington down! Yes, it did sound perfectly sensible two months ago, but it no longer does. It only sounds cowardly now. I am not a coward, Temeraire!"

"I never said you were," the dragon shook his head in disbelief, "I only said you need not sacrifice yourself for others all the time. I need a captain, not a martyr."

"Well then, your captain orders you to stop lazing around," Laurence said with a cutting edge to his voice. "Let us collect the crew and continue patrolling."

With a sigh, Temeraire held out his claws so that his captain could climb in to be lifted to his place on the dragon's back. Temeraire wished he could somehow save his beloved companion from himself and his wrong decisions… then again, he was not sure if returning to Australia would not have been an equally wrong, cowardly decision. Probably it would have been.

oOo

_End of September, covert of Dover_

"What have you done with your hair?" Jane asked.

"Er… cut it?" Laurence replied, his insecurity not coming from the fact that this was the first thing she told him upon meeting after three whole months, but rather from the fact that her sight practically shocked him. Her face was deadly pale and unhealthily thin, and her eyes held some unnatural tiredness, something he had never seen in Jane Roland. Even in the direst times, she had always been strong and healthy, both in body and soul.

"Why?" she pressed, her fingers nervously drumming on the desk. He was almost compelled to ask her what was wrong, but her expression suggested she would not be glad of an interrogation.

"The summer at Gibraltar was too hot," he explained, "besides… long hair went out of fashion years ago."

The corners of her mouth twitched into an almost-smile. "You have always been vain, Laurence. But vanity kind of suits you… just as long hair suited you too."

"Shorter hair hides better the fact that it is greying," he shrugged, eliciting a quick, throaty laugh from Jane.

"I knew I was missing something in your absence, Laurence," she said, her eyes glinting with mirth, but the rest of her face remained just as tired and sickly as before. "Do not worry, short hair suits you too, you are just as good-looking as you were when I first saw you... And you got a nice tan at Gibraltar too, I see…"

Laurence could no longer resist the urge to blurt out, "I might have a nice tan, but you… what happened to you, Jane?"

"I have been a bit sickly lately, but I am coping and getting better," she waved her hand, dismissing the problem. "Never worry for me, dear fellow. I am resilient enough, I have always been. And let us not talk about me, let us talk about you. Have you reached a decision?"

"Yes, Jane," he replied reluctantly; he would rather have pursued the topic of her apparently fragile health, "and I thank you for the chance for this little soul-searching. I definitely needed that. I have decided to stay and earn the trust you and Wellington bestowed upon me."

"I am glad to hear that," Jane nodded. "And who knows? I might find you useful…" Seeing his blush deepen as he glanced at the desk, she hastily added, "No, I did not mean _that._ I meant your connections. You know Wilberforce, I trust?"

"Yes, I do, but… I doubt if he would be glad to refresh his acquaintance with a convicted traitor."

"You need not contact him personally, you could do that through your father."

"My father? Jane, you know we are not on the best terms…"

"I know, but certain things need be done," she replied matter-of-factly. "But not now. You must be exhausted from the journey. Rest a bit, then we can return to this topic in a few days. Oh, and Laurence… I meant it," she sent him a wan smile. "I am glad to have you back, and I am sure you will be able to start a new life here… and perhaps even find what you have been looking for."

"Perhaps, Jane," he sent her an equally wan smile in return. "I intend to give myself a chance."

o

The afternoon found him aimlessly walking around the dragon grounds, wondering if he truly had a chance here, for a new life, for happiness, for anything. However, the prospect of going back to the hot and dry Australia did not look tempting at all, and he had already told Jane his decision – he could not change it now, it would be a downright spineless act to do so, especially when she – allegedly – needed his help in some mysterious matter. Britain had so much more to offer him than Australia did: family, friends, home and obligations.

Laurence always thought that nothing in the world happened in vain, and if Wellington had interceded with the Prince Regent for him, it had to have a reason, perhaps one that not even Wellington himself knew yet, only God did. Probably he had to fulfil a mission – perhaps for his home country, perhaps for the Corps, perhaps for the dragons, or perhaps just for himself. For the time being, however, he was set on helping Jane in whatever he could.

He was still deep in thought when Granby found him shortly before dinnertime and joined him in his aimless stroll. For some curious reason the young man looked uneasy about something.

"Your journey was fine, I trust?" he said, even his voice sounding uneasy.

"Yes, thank you. My family welcomed me back, with the exception of my father, of course, but I have never expected anything else from him. Gibraltar is very picturesque and has a pleasant climate. Temeraire enjoyed the monkey meat for a change, although he complained that the monkeys were too small even for dessert. And, what happened here in my absence?"

"Well…"

"What happened to Admiral Roland, for example? She looks a fright but she refused to tell me why. I am worried about her, John."

"I do not know what happened to her," Granby shrugged, "she never told anyone. She started being sick over a month ago and it got worse and worse until one day, about two weeks ago, when she was so very sick that Emily had to call for the doctor. I expect she must know what was wrong with her mother, but she did not tell, no matter how hard I tried to extract it from her…"

"You tried to extract it from her?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at his friend. "I never knew you cared so much for her family matters…"

"I…" Granby's cheeks coloured, and it was Emily herself who saved him from having to explain himself.

"John! John, I've been looking for you everywhere," she panted, hurrying up to them. "Laurence," she gave him a cursory look, "you cut your hair."

"Yes, I did, and good day to you too, Lieutenant Roland. Do you too think long hair suited me better?" he replied, trying to sound casual, but his heart was madly hammering in his chest upon her sight. Her cheeks were red from running, her sandy locks stood out in every direction – she was the loveliest vision he had seen for a long, long time…

"I don't know if it's better or worse," she shrugged, sizing him up, "but it definitely makes you look younger. Anyway," she diverted her glance and turned back to Granby, "Iskierka's throwing a tantrum about the leaky roof of her pavilion. After yesterday's torrent it is still dripping. Go and do something, John, I cannot manage her!"

"She's still a holy terror," Granby laughed nervously at Laurence. "Thank you, dear, I am off. Laurence, it's been a pleasure having you around again. See you later!"

Too shocked to even speak, Laurence stared after his friend's receding figure, and only when Emily too moved to walk away, did he find his voice again. "_Dear_?" he asked, his mouth as dry as a parchment. "Did I hear that right?"

"Yes, you did."

"Are… are you two… lovers?"

"No," Emily said, her voice too hollow to reveal any emotion, "John is not my lover, so you need not worry about my virtue, dear brother. He is my fiancé."

oOo

**A/N: reviews would be much appreciated.**


	6. What Are Friends For?

**A/N: **I have just returned from England – spent four days there (the rest of the journey was riding a bus across the half of Europe, well, that wasn't much fun...). Thankfully in those four days I spent in England it didn't rain at all and I saw more sunshine than clouds. I must admit that my prime motive for visiting England was to see Laurence's homeland. *sheepish grin* The tourist guide gave us quite a bit of interesting information, like, did you know that Admiral Nelson's body was brought back from Trafalgar in brandy so that it wouldn't rot? (you surely know that he died at Trafalgar, unlike in Novik's universe...) Anyway, I'm glad to have visited England, I only wish I had not tried the English sausages... I got an upset stomach. I don't think I'll ever like English cuisine. XD

**Thanks for the reviews, people! I replied to every signed one, I believe. :)**

_Skeptic7: _Dunno about the older Laurence kids's opinion of their uncle – but if it was their grandpa who told them about Will's acts, I doubt if they like Uncle Will much. Lord Allendale can be quite persuading, I think. I'm sorry if you don't like L/E because of the teacher/student relationship, but I can understand your point of view. I must admit I pretty much hated all Snape/Hermione fics and avoided them, but only because I thought Hermione was meant for Ron. Since I can't think of Emily being meant for anyone else in the series, I simply can't and do not condemn her being in a relationship with Laurence. *shrug*

**Chapter 6**

**What Are Friends For?**

"Your… fiancé?" Laurence's jaw dropped.

"Yes," Emily shrugged, her expression inscrutable.

Laurence felt as though he had been punched in the face, harder than ever. He knew he should feel utter relief by her revelation, but all he felt was shock and pain. After several long, numb seconds, he finally found his voice. "Do you… do you love him?"

"Of course I love him, he is a good man," she said, her voice slightly wavering, but her face still as unreadable as before.

"I know he is a good man, but that is not what I meant, Emily. Are you _in love_ with him?"

She sent him a piercing, defiant stare, but her lips trembled as a sign of barely contained emotion. She must have realised that she was unable to hide her vulnerability, so she turned her back on him, hugging herself as if she were shivering with cold.

"That is just enough of an answer," Laurence sighed, aware that he was supposed to feel disappointed that she had not stopped loving him, but he could not help it: a tiny part of his soul felt elated instead.

"Does it matter who I'm in love with?" she doubled back, her eyes not merely piercing any more, but practically sending lightning bolts at him. "I will _learn _to love him! He perfectly deserves to be loved, and he loves me, William, so I will love him back, if that's the last thing I ever do! And I will have his children, one for Iskierka and one for Excidium, and we shall do it in the honest, proper way that you always preached about but you never kept yourself! John only wants to have children in marriage, and I whole-heartedly agree with him! I don't want my children to grow up not knowing who their father is!" By the time she finished her tirade, tears had welled up in her eyes and she was shaking from head to toe. "Do you… do you understand this, William?" her voice trailed off, and his name came as a mere whisper from her lips.

"Of course I do," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Emily, having learned from her mother's mistakes, wanted to follow the right path, the path that he, Laurence had always supported in words, but in words only. His behaviour towards Jane had been anything but honourable, and Emily, albeit not quite openly, had reprimanded him for that. "Emily… I am glad you have chosen to follow this path, I really am. Granby is indeed a good man, and he will undoubtedly make you very happy."

She screwed her eyes shut, allowing the so-far contained tears cascade down her cheeks. When she opened her eyes again, she sent him a pleading glance. "Give me… just one reason… why I should not do it."

His mind was full of reasons all of a sudden, but all were sinful, therefore needed to be banished. "I cannot give you a reason, Emily."

Sniffing, she put out her chin. "Then I shall do it."

He tentatively reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I wish you and John all the happiness in the world… little sister."

Silently, she leaned against him, and he closed her into his arms. He could feel her body trembling, and all he could do was caress her hair. So this was what it felt like to have a sister who needed consolation in her lovesickness, he thought. The only bizarre element in the story was that the subject of her lovesickness was not another man, but he, her own brother.

Just as he began thinking it was probably not the wisest idea to hold her so close lest she regards it as a reason to expect more than just brotherly affections from him, she pulled back. Her breathing was ragged, but he could not decide if it was due to the fact that she could not properly breathe through her nose after crying, or it was due to something else entirely. As her eyes wandered to his lips and she licked hers, inching her face a little closer, he was quickly getting aware of the effect her closeness had on his body.

"So, what happened to your mother?" He made a hasty step backwards, forcing his voice to sound as nonchalant as though he had not noticed her intention of kissing him at all. "She looks sick but when I asked her, she said she was doing fine. I am worried about her."

Shaken out of her dream-like state, almost brutally dragged back to reality, Emily looked disoriented for a few seconds, then her vision cleared and she knitted her eyebrows.

"You have no idea what's wrong with her, have you?" she asked, her voice icy and hostile.

"No," he looked politely confused, "how could I know if she refused to tell me?"

"I should not tell you either, if Mother did not want you to know," she sighed, "but hell, I think you must know, even if she will be very mad at me for telling you!" She leaned against a tree, perhaps for support, looking desperate, insecure and lost, and for some curious reason: ashamed.

Laurence frowned. He could not fathom what it could be that Jane Roland wanted to hide from him at all costs… "Then please tell me, and I shall not let her know that you did."

"As if you could hold back from running to her as soon as you find out," Emily said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and your goddamn sense of propriety…"

"Emily, please, either tell me or don't tell me at all, but do not play with me like this!"

"Right," she drew herself up, stepping away from the tree, but he could not help noticing that her hands were balled into fists and her lips were still trembling. "For your information, my mother was with child, but she miscarried, and I have every reason to assume that it was yours, based on that shameless orgy you two had in her office the night before you left!"

If Laurence had thought that he could not get more shocked than he had been by the news of Emily's engagement to Granby, he was now forced to realise he had been completely wrong. "A… baby, Emily? Jane was…? Oh, heavens!" He ran a hand nervously across his hair. "But… but… how?"

"If you were a child, I'd say the stork must have had a dark sense of humour," she snorted, "but since you are not, I am quite sure you _know_ how it happened. Or do I have to explain?"

"No… yes… I mean, Jane always took precautions… she never allowed me to… not when the timing was wrong…"

"I don't know why it was different this time," Emily made a grimace. "I doubt if she wanted that child in the first place, but… she did look devastated when she lost it."

He swallowed hard. "Does… does anyone else know?"

"No, only mother, you, me and the covert's physician. Even I only found out when she lost it." Emily once again hugged herself, and there was some inexplicable sadness in her eyes, as though it had been her who had miscarried, not her mother. "I think… she had wanted to keep her condition a secret until you returned... to surprise you, or for some other unknown, stupidly sentimental reason…"

It was on the tip of Laurence's tongue that he had never seen or imagined Jane being sentimental, but he held back.

"I wanted to ask her several times when I saw her pale and nauseous, but… we were not exactly on speaking terms…" Emily bit into her lower lip, and blinked back a tear. "It was so damn selfish of me to keep avoiding her… but I could no longer be angry with her after that… I simply could not, she was so… so pitiable, William! She tried to be strong, but it was just pretence… she suffered so much, and she still does! Oh, William, I will not be angry with you this time, just help her somehow!"

Before Laurence could even react, she was clutching at his cloak, her tearful eyes boring deeply into his, beseeching him.

"You mean… you would not mind if Jane and I…?"

Emily shook her head. "Will, please. Help her. In any way you can."

Covering her hands with his, he nodded. "I shall try. Pray calm down, Emily. You did nothing wrong, you have no reason to be so upset…"

She pulled away, not looking calmer at all, on the contrary. "Just go, please. Talk to her."

Giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Laurence began walking back towards the building complex, knowing that every word he had told Emily to try to calm her down had been hollow and meaningless, as he knew that _he_ could not calm down either. He had never been this close to having a family, and he was hurting inside, more than he had imagined such a thing could be possible. He had heard that his sister-in-law Elisabeth had lost a child years and years ago, but according to Lady Allendale, the father, George, had not been particularly shaken. Then again, George had had five children already when this had happened.

Laurence had never considered the saying 'ignorance is bliss' as true as he did now. Probably he should not have pressured Emily into revealing Jane's secret… if he had never found out, he would not have been hurting so much… But as soon as this thought crossed his mind, he felt ashamed. Ignorance would undoubtedly have been the easy way for him, but Jane still would have suffered.

Now that he knew the truth, he could at least try to help her if she was willing to accept his help. He had every intention of trying, and he also wanted to make sure that Jane would not be mad at her daughter for spilling the beans. Emily did not deserve to be the target of anyone's fury.

o

Emily, however, felt that she deserved all her misery and even more. As she watched Laurence walk away, she needed to lean against the tree for support again, and even if she had so far managed to hold her emotions at bay, at least to some extent, she no longer could. If she had been agitated and a bit tearful while she had talked to him, it had been nothing compared to what came over her now: her back against the tree's bark, she slid down into a crouching position, hysterical sobs raking her body. Hiding her face in her palms, she tried to close out the world, tried not to think at all, but her thoughts had a mind of their own, taking her back to her mother's office two weeks earlier…

"_To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Jane Roland looked up from a report she was reading. Her face was as white as a sheet, but her eyes still managed to hold a challenge and a bit of sarcasm. _

"_I have come to announce that I am getting married, Mother."_

_Jane dropped the report, her eyes widening to such an extent that she looked almost frightening: huge eyes were shining out of a deadly pale face. "Married?" she whispered, as though her vocal cords had failed her._

"_Yes, Mother," Emily replied defiantly. "Granby proposed to me yesterday, and I accepted. Without a thought."_

_Jane knitted her eyebrows and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Granby… I noticed him giving you longing glances a long time ago… but I never thought he would screw up the courage to ask you."_

"_Well, he did, and I'm glad he did."_

"_Are you?" Jane arched an eyebrow at her daughter. _

"_Yes, I am, because this marriage saves me from a life I want to avoid at all costs," Emily snapped, "from a life like yours!"_

"_What do you mean by this, young lady?" her mother crossed her arms, looking even paler than she had when Emily had entered._

"_You know exactly what I meant, Mother," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "I won't be sleeping around like you did and still do… yes, I know you fucked Laurence in this very office before he left! __**I **__won't have amoral relationships and illegitimate children! __**My**__ children __**will **__know who their father is! I won't live the life of a common whore, Mother!"_

"_Take that back, Emily!" Jane jumped up from her seat. "I have tolerated your cheek for a while, but you have crossed the line, young lady!"_

"_As if I heard Laurence speaking!" Emily retorted. "I bet he told you last time that I had been damn unfair with you, didn't he? I bet he consoled you and you happily accepted his consolation! Comfort sex must have been absolutely great… or should I call it 'fucking awesome'? Yes," she carried on, seeing utter horror spread on her mother's face, "I heard you two, and I was ashamed to be your daughter! I was… Mother?"_

_In that moment Jane doubled up, pressing a hand on her belly, her features disfigured by pain and panic. _

"_Mother…?" Emily whispered, her eyes wide like saucers at the sight of a rose of blood spreading on Jane Roland's cream-coloured breeches. "Dear Lord, Mother! Doctor! Someone call a doctor…!"_

"_You call one," Jane muttered through gritted teeth, sinking back into her chair. As she lifted her face to her daughter, Emily saw not only pain on her mother's cheeks, but tears also. And she was not sure if those tears were only due to physical pain. "Go for a doctor, Emily, and don't tell anyone else. Not a word, do you hear me? Not a word!"_

"_How is she doing?" Granby approached her several hours later._

"_A bit better, I think, she's asleep," Emily replied, her voice shaky._

_Her fiancé gently pulled her to himself, rocking her in his arms. It felt calming to bend her head on his shoulder, but it brought only physical relief – her heart and soul would need much more time to heal, if they managed to heal at all._

"_Whatever happened to her, I'm sure she will be all right soon," she h__eard Granby mutter into her ear, "she is the toughest woman I have ever met… you resemble her a lot, only you have a bigger heart, Emily. That is what I love so much about you: you are strong and determined, but you do not lack feminine emotions like she does…"_

_At that moment Emily thought that he was completely wrong: her mother did have feminine emotions, she had only been a master at hiding them. But in her office, seeing blood pool between her legs, Jane Roland had been a true woman – she had cried for her baby. And later, after the doctor had left and Emily had visited her, she had looked just as lost as a mother was supposed to be upon losing a child. She had only sent her daughter a cursory glance, then looked away, blinking back a tear. _

_No, her mother was not as strong as she had always showed herself… and she definitely did not lack emotions._

"_You are wrong," Emily replied, "she and I are more alike than you would imagine."_

"_That might be so, but thankfully I'm not in love with her, only with you," Granby said with a small chuckle, gently pressing his lips to hers. For the umpteenth time since she had said 'yes' to him, Emily was forced to think how pathetic and miserable it all was: his affections, be it a kiss or a caress, awoke no emotions in her, not even a pleasant little tingle. Nothing._

Wiping her tears on her sleeves, Emily stood up. She needed to return to the barracks and wash her face – her fiancé should not see her in her current state or he would surely demand some kind of an explanation, and she definitely did not feel ready to give him that. Poor Granby was so certain that she loved him, although she had not told him that with a single word… She did not feel it in her heart to lie to him, but she could not tell him either that she loved Laurence and would always love Laurence… Granby was her saviour, and she was not willing to let him go.

As for her mother… Emily could only hope that Jane Roland would some day forgive her.

In the two weeks that had passed since the miscarriage, Jane had not approached her daughter and Emily had not approached her mother either. They had only talked when duty demanded, and Jane had never even suggested she blamed her daughter for anything, but Emily could not imagine how her mother could _not_ blame her. She definitely blamed herself.

oOo

Intent on seeking out Jane and talking to her before dinner, Laurence entered the covert's main building, but before he could turn left on the corridor that led to her office, he heard someone call out to him.

"Laurence! Wait, Laurence!"

It was Granby, his cheeks pink – from running, from shame or from fury, Laurence could not tell – and some of his dark locks were plastered to his temples.

"Good that I've found you," he panted, propping his hands on knees once he stopped next to his friend. "I've wanted to talk to you… out of two reasons."

"Indeed?" Laurence forced his voice not to waver, although he would have liked to blurt out 'I expect one of the reasons is Emily'.

"Yes," Granby nodded, trying to catch his breath. "One of my reasons is Iskierka. She's fallen out with Temeraire, you should have seen them when I arrived there…"

"Were they fighting?" Laurence gasped.

"No, at least not physically, but I expect Temeraire must have hurt her feelings and they were growling at each other… and I must admit I was taken aback by Iskierka's vocabulary… she used words that I seriously have no idea where she could have learned…"

"But… what started the argument between them?"

"Oh, I bet it was the egg," Granby waved his hand irritably. "You know she still hasn't got over the rejection, and nowadays she's grouchy anyway, with the leaky roof of her pavilion and everything…"

"But isn't that pavilion fairly new? It was only built eight years ago, how come it is leaky already?"

"Careless designing, bad construction, whatever. And Iskierka cannot even complain that much, for her pavilion was made mostly of the prizes we had taken together, and we had paid the structural engineers properly for their work. But the others…" Granby knitted his eyebrows, and from the piercing look in his eyes Laurence assumed that his earlier flush had been mostly due to fury. "Most pavilions are falling apart. Yes, Wellington paid the dragons for fighting, but not nearly enough, so our architects were underpaid, and naturally they made a botch job."

"But surely the pavilions could be repaired?"

"Repaired? As if! It's not bloody likely that we are getting money for _anything_ these days… Ever since Waterloo, we have been treated like the black sheep of Britain's military family._ Again._ You know, with the war over, we're no longer essential, so the dragons may starve and die for all the Crown cares…"

"I never would have thought the situation was so dire," Laurence shook his head, now having quite a clear idea what Jane wanted his help with.

"Well, it is," Granby grunted. "Last winter was not unbearable, but the one before it was the coldest winter England had seen in a hundred years, and a Winchester actually froze to death. Of course you didn't know, you were still in Australia then. If the circumstances were so dire two years ago, I don't dare imagine what they will be now, in this wonderful, happy state of peace," Granby said with sarcasm. "So that's how things are. Sorry about the bad news, Laurence. I just wanted to ask you to talk to Temeraire as soon as possible. You know that Iskierka can't be managed when she's angry, Temeraire is by far the more sensible of the two, it's him who has to keep out of any future argument with her. Can you please go and talk to him?"

"Yes, by all means," Laurence sighed, knowing that this meant he had to postpone his discussion with Jane.

"And Laurence…" Granby carried on, his voice turning from furious to slightly insecure, "I wanted to talk to you about something else as well. Er… did Emily… did she tell you…?"

"Yes, John, and I am glad of the news."

"Are you?" Granby's face lit up.

"Yes, my friend. I wish you two all the best," Laurence held out his hand and Granby delightedly shook it.

"Whew, you have no idea how you relieve me!"

"I relieve you? Why?"

"Well," Granby sent him an impish grin, "I thought you wouldn't be glad to know that Emily and I…"

"I told you months ago that I regarded her as a little sister," Laurence said, commanding his voice to remain natural.

Granby let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah… you did, but I still had my doubts. Had I not thought…"

"What?"

The younger man shook his head with an embarrassed grin. "I would have started courting her over a year ago… had I not thought that my best friend was in love with her."

Laurence's heart clenched at this touching evidence of friendship. He put a hand on Granby's shoulder. "I am glad you finally screwed up your courage to court her. You two are going to be a wonderful couple, I am sure of that."

"Thanks, Laurence," Granby sent him a grateful smile. "Would you… would you do me the honour of being my best man?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Laurence nodded. "Yes, John. Gladly."

oOo

"But Laurence, it was all started by her!" Temeraire complained. "She just came over to me, claiming that my pavilion was not leaky yet, and that she wanted to share it."

"Why did you not share it with her?"

"Because it would have been very confined for two heavy-weights, besides, I fear if she snuggled up to me, we would somehow end up… you know…"

"Mating?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at his dragon.

"Yes," Temeraire said uneasily.

"My dear, why do I have the impression that you are afraid of mating with her?"

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are," Laurence hid a smile, although he was not in the mood to smile at all. He knew well enough that 'mating' could have dire consequences, although definitely not for a dragon. For humans, though…

Laurence caught himself shaking in the early autumn chill, although he was quite sure that the cold engulfing him had not come from outside, but from inside, from his heart.

"Laurence, you look sad," Temeraire perceived. "What happened?"

The captain shook his head. "I might tell you later, my dear, but first I need to talk to Jane about it."

"Jane? Why Jane?"

"I cannot tell you yet, my dear. Pray let us not talk about me, let us talk about you and Iskierka. Temeraire, you do not need to mate with her, but sharing your pavilion with her would be a gallant thing to do. And… if she is trying to force herself on you, you can still kick her out."

Temeraire let out a roar of laughter, making even his captain smile a bit again. "You are right, Laurence. I think I will try that. _If_ she comes to me again. Although… I am quite sure she will not approach me for quite a while now. She is like a hurt princess, sulking on her own."

"Serves her right," Laurence gently patted the dragon's flank. "Always be wise, my dear, I know you can while she… let us admit, cannot."

"Yes, she _is_ very stupid, is she not?" Temeraire said in a hushed, conspiratorial voice.

"A bit," Laurence agreed.

In the distance the bell called for supper. With a sigh, he acknowledged that he had to put off his visit to Jane after dinnertime. He could only hope nothing would happen to keep him from her this time.

o

Jane was readying herself for bed when there was a knock on her door. Stifling a groan, she pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself and shuffled to the door. She felt too tired to even walk properly.

"Laurence?" she frowned as she spotted him standing on the corridor, his face unusually pale and his expression downright timid. "What happened?"

"Jane… may I talk to you?"

She would have liked to send him away, claiming that she was in no condition to receive guests, but something told her she should listen to whatever he had to stay. She silently motioned him to enter.

He walked in, walked past her to the window, where he stopped, his back half-turned on her, his hands folded behind his back and… shaking? Did she see it right? – Jane wondered. Were his hands truly shaking? She could not fully see his face, only his profile, and was surprised to notice that he was biting his lower lip. Shaking hands and lip-chewing? He only did that when he was particularly nervous or embarrassed…

"Well?" she closed the door and took a step towards him. "How can I help you?"

"You cannot help me, Jane, but perhaps… I can help you," he turned around, his clear blue eyes full of sympathy.

"Christ, Emily has told you, hasn't she?" the admiral ran a hand across her greying locks.

"Yes," Laurence nodded, "and I beg you to not be angry with her, for _I_ pressured her into telling me. If someone is to be blamed, it is I."

Jane sank into one of the chairs, propping her chin in her left hand. Laurence sat down on the other chair facing her, taking her free hand and absent-mindedly running his fingers along it. "You are so very thin, Jane," he muttered, and she did not feel strong enough to contradict him. Her fingers looked downright spindly as his large male hand held hers. "I had to know what happened to you… and when I found out… oh, Jane, I am so sorry." He lifted her hand to his lips, and she watched with almost-horror as tears welled up in his eyes. She felt like jerking her hand back and telling him to leave, that she did not need his compassion, but… she could not help it, it felt nice to be pampered by someone for a change. She had never allowed anyone to treat her as a woman. Probably it was not too late to change that.

"I am sorry too," Jane replied, "but life goes on. I am doing much better already, and in a couple of weeks I am going to be as fit as a fiddle. Only…"

"Only?" he looked up, his eyes still brimmed with tears, but he blinked, not letting them to find their way down his cheeks. Probably he had sensed she would not tolerate such sentimentalism.

With a sigh, she gently pulled her hand out of his. "The doctor said I could not survive another miscarriage. Laurence, I can no longer trust the calendar. I am at the end of my children-bearing years, at the very end, and my periods are starting to be horribly erratic. I can no longer rely on counting the days… so I must simply avoid intimacy… at least as long as I am still fertile, however remotely. That could mean months… perhaps even years." She shook her head with a cold little laugh. "No sex for who knows how long! This must be my punishment for behaving like a tramp half my life…"

"Jane, please, do not talk like that," Laurence pleaded. "You are not a tramp, no matter what Emily told you. She only talked out of fury, out of desperation… she did not mean it."

"You are a dear, Laurence," she said, covering his hand with hers. "I wish I had managed to give you an heir… Not that I had been planning it, of course… no. But when I found out, I was actually… happy about it. Can you imagine?"

"Yes," he looked deeply into her eyes, "I can."

"I was so excited, waiting for you to return, wondering how you would react… and how Temeraire would react… after all, the child would have been his future captain…" She sniffed, angry at herself for almost crying. "But it will never happen. I cannot give you an heir. You will need to find someone else."

"Who?" It was his turn to let out a cold laugh. "Jane, I am not exactly a good catch. Show me just one woman who would gladly marry me!"

"Right, I will introduce her to you tomorrow," she replied.

"What?" Laurence's eyes popped.

"There is a woman who, I am sure, would gladly marry you," Jane carried on in as pragmatic a voice as she could muster. "My third lieutenant, Nancy Collins. Judging by the way her face turns as red as her hair every time you walk by, she is quite taken with you."

"A redhead?" Laurence frowned. "I never spotted a redhead on your crew."

"No wonder you never spotted her, aside from her pretty hair colour, she is quite plain-looking. She's thirty-one, so she's got a few good years to give you children, and a bonus: people say she's never been touched by a man."

"Is she _that _plain-looking?"

Jane unintentionally burst out laughing. "Well… decide that yourself. Who knows? You might like her; she is the ideal wife material. Modest, silent, obedient."

"What makes you think that such a woman would be ideal for me?"

"Would it not?" she challenged, almost enjoying their little debate. Teasing him had always proved to be entertaining…

"Well…" he made a grimace, "years and years ago I had a fiancée in possession of all the aforementioned virtues… but I am not sure if those would still make me happy. There is no excitement, no challenge in an obedient woman."

"Hah! I would never have thought you'd change so much, Laurence," Jane chuckled, her exhaustion all but disappeared by now. His company was truly refreshing. "But as you said yourself, you are not quite the catch, dear fellow… you will have to be satisfied with whatever life offers, and Nancy is a good person. And you're getting a virgin. Have you had a virgin yet?"

Laurence's cheeks coloured slightly as he shook his head.

"Well then, a bit of variety, huh?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Would you introduce me to her, then?"

"With pleasure, dear fellow," she grinned. "I will find a means to do it as subtly as possible."

"You and subtlety, Jane?" he raised an eyebrow at her, which made her laugh again. She was feeling loads better than she had just a few hours ago. Perhaps the saying that laughter had a healing effect was true, after all.

"It is nice to have you back, Laurence," she admitted. "I only wish I could have you back in every respect…"

"Well…" he cast a glance towards her bed, "if that is what you need… I have ten perfectly healthy fingers and…" he licked his lips, "not only those. I am sure we could make up something."

"God, Laurence, I think I have corrupted you," Jane chuckled, then reached out and squeezed his hand. "But even if corrupted, you are sweet. Thank you."

His eyes glinting with mirth, he smiled back. "What are friends for?"

"I'm damn lucky to have a friend like you." She stood up and untied the sash of her dressing gown. "And of course," she shrugged off the white silk material, "I shall gladly return the favour."

An hour later they lay entangled, blissfully satisfied, their ragged breathing the only noise in the room.

"You know," Laurence spoke up after several minutes of silence, "when I get engaged to Nancy… _if _I do at all, we cannot continue this. It would not be proper. I regard engagement almost as binding as marriage, and I would never cheat on my wife."

"I would never expect you to," she planted a small kiss on his chest. "So I hope you will take months to win her over," she added with a yawn, closing her eyes.

"Probably it will take forever," he muttered into her hair, "and I might never succeed. But I shall try, for Temeraire's sake. He needs a future captain."

"Uh-huh…" she murmured, almost asleep.

"Speaking of Temeraire, Granby told me of the financial situation of the Corps. I expect this is what you want me to help you with?"

A little miffed that he was not letting her sleep, she replied, "Yes. Wellington, that sly old fox isn't helping us much anymore. We fought for him, we won the war for him, and now we can be forgotten until the start of a new war. Then they will come back crawling on their knees, offering us everything we need. But not until then. If I could only sit in the Lords!" she banged her fist down in anger, making Laurence wince. "Sorry," Jane sighed, realising that it had been his chest she had punched not the surface of her desk that she normally banged with her fists when angry.

"Never mind as long as you don't crack a rib," he chuckled lightly. "It must truly be frustrating to be a peer and yet not allowed to sit in the Lords… you could help the case a lot better if you were there."

"Yes, but I'm not, just because I'm female," she fumed. "Your father is there, however, and so is Wilberforce. I will need you to try and contact your father, no matter how hard it is for you. I know your relationship is anything but amicable, and yet… it is a chance for us. Will you do it?"

"Of course I will, Jane."

"Thank you, dear fellow," she muttered into his shoulder. "And now sleep. I was damn tired even before you arrived… I'm practically dead now. You wore me out. And take that as a compliment."

"I do," he pressed a gentle kiss on her temple. Jane froze for a second as she remembered that this gesture had come from a man who was deeply in love with her daughter. For the first time in her life Jane wished it were she whom Laurence loved. But she was a realist. She knew she could not keep him.

oOo

"So, she nearly had your egg, but the egg died, and that is why you are so sad," Temeraire summarised what he had heard from his captain. It was late in the afternoon, they had recently returned from their daily patrol.

"Yes, my dear," Laurence replied, his gazed fixed on the streaks that the rays of setting sun painted on the grass as it filtered through the foliage.

"But Laurence, you once said you did not want to give an egg to someone you did not love… and you do not love Jane, do you?"

"No, my dear. At least… not like that. I love her as a friend, a very good friend, but… I am not in love with her, that is true."

"Then why did you give her an egg?"

"I did not intend to. She did not intend to have an egg from me either. It was an accident."

"For dragons it cannot be an accident, so I have heard," Temeraire said. "You either try for an egg, or you do not."

"It is easy for you then," Laurence sighed.

"If… if Emily was not your sister, you would want to have an egg with her, would you not?"

"Yes, Temeraire. Naturally I would."

"And since she is the only woman you are in love with, you do not want to have an egg with anyone else, right?" the dragon asked, his voice sounding slightly disappointed.

"Well… morally it should be like that, but… you need an heir, so I might have to reconsider my priorities."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I…" Laurence began, only to be silenced by the appearance of a red haired woman who looked at him with a bashful smile.

"Captain Laurence," she said, her cheeks glowing redder than her hair, "Admiral Roland asked me to deliver you this," she gave him a rolled-up parchment. "It contains designs of dragon pavilions, and figures attached. She said you would know what to do with them."

"Er… thank you," Laurence clutched at the parchment, knowing that Jane, as clever as she was, wanted to kill two birds with one stone. Sending him a report of the sum needed for the repair works was a clear nudge towards rekindling his long-frozen relationship with his father, and sending the report with Lieutenant Collins was a clear nudge towards the start of a new relationship.

"You are most welcome," she smiled brightly, and he had to admit that her smile was quite charming despite the fact that she was overall not very pretty. She inclined her head slightly and turned to leave, and Laurence needed several seconds to realise that he could not let her go just like that. Jane would tease him for years if he did.

"Lieutenant Collins," he called after her, making her stop in her stride and double back.

"Do you know my name, Captain?" she looked appalled and pleased at the same time.

"Y-yes. Er… I was wondering if you… if you… liked today's weather?" he blurted out, feeling stupider than he had in a long time.

She must have found his miserable attempt at starting a conversation highly amusing, at least judging by the glint in her eyes and the twitching of her lips. "I think we are having very pleasant weather, sir."

"Yes, very pleasant, indeed, especially for the end of September," he nodded, berating himself for his blundering. He had not acted this awkwardly around a woman since the age of sixteen! "Do you find it is… nice enough… to take a stroll?"

There was a bit of confusion in her eyes, but she nodded. "Yes, it is nice enough for a stroll."

"Well, then… I would be honoured if you joined…"

"Laurence, you are speaking very stupidly," Temeraire said, shaking him back to reality and reminding him that his blundering had an eager audience.

Lieutenant Collins giggled behind her freckly hands.

"Thanks, Temeraire," Laurence grunted, then turned back to the woman, forcing a smile on his face. "Well then, Lieutenant Collins… a stroll it is."

oOo

**A/N: Leave a review, please! :)**


	7. Mail and Blackmail

**A/N: thanks to _Anna Scathach, Polyarny_ and _LittleHogwartsGirl_ for the reviews on chapter 6.**

**Chapter 7**

**Mail and Blackmail**

_The Rt Hon the Lord of Allendale, Wollaton Hall _

_Sir, _

_You might be surprised to receive a letter from me, and I entertain no hope that it will not be thrown into the fire unopened and unread. However, should you still decide to read it, I would like to seize the opportunity to mention in advance that I am writing in the name of the Aerial Corps, not my own. _

_You might have heard that Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air has been made a peer with the help of the Duke of Wellington, and yet, based on the outworn prejudices of our male-centred society, she is not allowed to take her rightful place in the House of Lords. Had she been granted this right, she would long ago have raised a protest against the way the Aerial Corps has been dealt with ever since Waterloo. _

_As you surely know, the Duke of Wellington has reaped all the benefit of the victory, yet I am certain he has forgotten to mention in political circles that it was the Aerial Corps that played the most significant and decisive role in Napoleon's defeat. He solved the 'problem' of acknowledging the Corps' achievements through interceding on Temeraire's and my behalf with the Prince Regent, claiming that Temeraire and his crew were the most valiant warriors at Waterloo. This may sound very flattering and I am more than pleased to have been granted a free pardon of some sort, but I cannot forget the fact that Temeraire and I were mere instruments in the Duke of Wellington's hands to clear his conscience regarding his obligations towards the Aerial Corps. _

_By giving us a free pardon, he can claim he has shown his gratitude towards the Corps, but we, Temeraire and I, are only two of several hundreds. The rest of the Corps are in dire in need of acknowledgement too which they have never received. Naturally, it is not loud praises we expect but financial means of expressing the Crown's satisfaction with our work. Yet, we have been denied the funds we need, and as you know, not for the first time in history._

_As a friend of mine, Captain Granby has put it: we are once again considered as the black sheep of Britain's military family, and I must admit it, Sir, that I do not understand why. I only understand that winter is coming and the pavilions that the dragons bought on their first ever salary, have leaky roofs and crumbling walls. Now that our service is not sorely needed, the Crown has turned its back on us just as it has always done before, and it is for this that we seek redress._

_It was Admiral Roland who asked me to write to you and ascertain if you could somehow put her in connection with Lord Wilberforce, or if you were willing to help our cause yourself. _

_I understand and accept it if you do not wish to talk to me, but I ask you to talk to Lord Wilberforce at least and arrange a meeting between him and Admiral Roland, if possible. _

_Thank you for taking the time to read my letter, and please give my love to Mother._

_I remain, Sir, your obedient son,_

_Wm Laurence_

_October 2nd, 1815_

oOo

Absent-mindedly running his fingers up and down Jane's bare arm, Laurence watched the tiny flecks of snow dance before the curtain of black sky outside. It was the end of November, and already cold enough for the snow not to melt once it reached the soil, although thankfully not nearly cold enough for any of the dragons to suffer any harm. His heart still ached for them, knowing that despite their resistance to cold, they were going to suffer as they always did over the winter.

"Still no letter from your father, I assume?" Jane muttered into his shoulder.

"No," he replied. "I fear he probably burned it unopened."

"Probably not. He is still your father, no matter how displeased he is with you… parental love never dies, Laurence."

"Perhaps it never does, but if it never lived in the first place, it cannot die either," he said bitterly.

"Now, now, Laurence, do you honestly think your father has never loved you? Not even a bit?"

"I have every reason to assume that."

"Great turds," she rose to prop herself on her elbow. "You yourself told me how his health had been ruined after your treason…"

"Yes, because I sullied the family's honour. Trust me, it was all about the purity of our name and our respectable status that he mourned, not me."

"Say whatever you want, I don't believe it," she shook her head. "I told you once that your father liked to wear a mask. A mask of toughness and invulnerability, but beyond that mask… he is different."

"Yeah, he's a whoremonger," he snorted, then stiffened upon realising what he had just said. "Good Lord, Jane, I am sorry. You know that I didn't mean…"

"I know, do not worry," Jane squeezed his arm. "I did not take it to my heart. As for your father… yes, he is different on the inside than on the outside. He is more of a flesh and blood person than you have ever imagined, and not only in _that_ respect. He does have a heart, I am sure of that… and who knows? He might prove it to you some day."

"As if," Laurence boxed into the pillow with a frustrated grunt.

Seeing that she was losing this battle, Jane settled back into his arms with a sigh. "Being a parent does not leave anyone's heart untouched. Trust me. I know. And I'm not saying this because I am a mother… you know well enough that I am not as over-emotional as most women. From my point of view, it matters little if you are a mother or a father… what matters is that you love your child, no matter what he or she did. Parental love is unconditional. Why, even Emily told me horrible things… almost unforgivable things… and I never really found it in my heart to be mad at her, because I love her."

"But your relationship to her isn't exactly close these days, is it?"

"No… it is sort of cold, but I know it will warm up again. She just needs time. I need time too. But it will happen eventually. She is my daughter and I love her dearly. Your father loves you too, just like you will love the children Nancy gives you. Speaking of which," she ran a finger down his chest, "I hate to think that I am losing you tomorrow…"

"Well, it was you who set me up with her," he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I must congratulate you on your quick conquest. Barely two months from first introductions to official engagement! That must be a record!"

"It was not that hard," Laurence muttered, "she was attracted to me already when I first asked her out… But pray let us not talk about her now. As you said, this is our last night together."

"How very true, dear fellow," she purred. "And how very lucky that my latest period ended just two days ago… we are safe now, and I intend to use this opportunity. Do not expect to sleep a wink tonight…"

As Jane claimed his lips, his first kiss with his fiancée flashed into his mind. It had not been nearly as nice as with Jane… but the kisses with Jane had never been nearly as nice as those few he had shared with Emily. And yet, he could not live with his true love, Emily, and he could not stay with 'the second best', Jane, either. He had to settle for Nancy Collins, and he had every intention of doing it properly. Like he had done upon proposing to her, a week earlier…

"_Nancy," he said, not really knowing how to start it all. He had twice proposed to women before, and the first proposal had been followed by the unconditional acceptance of a sixteen-year-old girl who eventually did not marry him because he became an aviator; the second had been followed by the outright rejection of a woman who was his senior both in age and rank. As they say, third time's the charm, and yet, he was unsure if there was going to be anything charming about a marriage to Miss Collins. He did not love her, he did not even feel attracted to her, there was only one positive thing about it all: the prospect of giving a future captain to Temeraire._

"_Yes, Laurence?" she said with a timid smile._

"_Nancy…" He tentatively reached out and took her hands into his. "I have been… thinking. A lot. You are a good person, Nancy. A good friend, and… I would not mind if there was… more than just friendship between us."_

"_Well, isn't there already?" She arched an auburn eyebrow at him. "You have kissed me already. More than once."_

"_Yes," he made an embarrassed grimace, "but I thought of more than just… kissing. Oh, do not get me wrong," he added hastily, his cheeks reddening at once, "I did not mean to suggest that…"_

"_Not that I would mind if you did," she said, her blush mirroring his. "But… if you did not mean to suggest that we sleep together, then… what exactly did you want to say?" There was a challenge in her voice, and at that moment he thought that with the impish sparkle in her eyes, she almost looked pretty. _

"_Uh… well…" he gently squeezed her hands that were already sandwiched between his, "I mean that… I would be very happy if you considered… marrying me."_

"_There's nothing to consider about it," she replied, her eyes still glinting mischievously._

"_You mean… no?" he gulped._

"_No, I mean yes! I need not consider my answer, Laurence. It is the biggest yes I've ever said to anyone or anything!"_

_As their lips met, Laurence felt a tiny pang of remorse. He knew he was going to visit Jane that very night, and do with her more than just kissing. His engagement was not yet official, so perhaps having sex with Jane was not necessarily cheating on Nancy, but he could not help feeling guilty. And not only because of Jane, but because of Emily as well. He felt he was cheating on Nancy if he still thought of Emily, and he was cheating on Emily if he married Nancy. Not to mention that he felt he was cheating on both Emily and Nancy as long as he was intimate with Jane. He knew it was absurd to think he could cheat on Emily in any way, as she was his sister and he was not supposed to feel anything but brotherly love for her, and yet, his heart was not willing to listen to his common sense. _

_His soul was in a hopeless turmoil, and the only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to put things right, both in his head and in his heart. As soon as his engagement to Nancy was announced, he would stop visiting Jane in her bedroom, and he would exercise complete abstinence till the wedding night. Nancy was pure, both in body and soul, and he wanted to keep her like that until they got married. For once he wanted to do something in the perfectly honest way. He was not going to act like his father had. For him, marriage was sacred, and he was not going to bungle it up. Not that Nancy meant a real threat to his 'virtue', not like Emily had before he had discovered the sad truth about their family connections…_

_Yes, he had been perfectly willing to sleep with Emily even without marriage, but in those fleeting happy moments he had spent as her almost-lover, he had hoped she would eventually marry him. With Nancy everything was different. She awoke no unbridled passion or undying love in him like Emily had, nor the more or less contained sort of desire he occasionally felt for Jane. Since he did not love and did not even covet her, Nancy was supposed to enter marriage in the way most women in the circles of the Laurence family's social class did: untouched. _

The first light of dawn found him tired and drowsy yet unable to fall asleep. Jane was peacefully dozing in his arms, her lips tucked into a beatific smile even in her sleep. Laurence knew he was supposed to feel happy he had managed to offer her some comfort in the past few weeks, but he also knew that this comfort had not been one-sided: he had also needed the gentleness she had offered in return, probably more than she had needed his. Jane was, after all, not in love with a person who was about to marry someone else, and she herself was not about to get married to someone she did not love.

Jane's life seemed almost enviably simple to him: her heart had never really been affected by a man, and Laurence was sure she never truly mourned the loss of a lover. For her it was easy to exchange a partner for another, while he could not imagine himself ever doing the same, not without pangs of remorse, at least. And he definitely had pangs of remorse as he thought back on his last conversation with Emily.

_It was late in the afternoon, the day following his proposal to Nancy, when he waited for Iskierka's crew to disperse to call Emily aside. Granby gave them a curious glance but did not pry and hurried back to the barracks._

_Laurence led Emily to a few rocks nearby, slightly away from Iskierka who seemed to have fallen asleep. The girl propped herself against one of the larger rocks and gave him an annoyed look. "I hope you have a good reason to approach me like that. John seemed suspicious."_

_Laurence heaved a sigh. "I did not know how else I could approach you to talk to you in private. Listen, if John pries, tell him I asked you something about your mother. Jane's health is still not perfect, let him think I was merely worried about her."_

_Emily snorted. "As if you didn't know everything about her condition… Tell you what, you're damn lucky that you managed to keep your renewed interest in her a secret. It's a wonder that the half covert isn't gossiping about you two, given the fact that you spend at least every third or fourth night with her…"_

"_How do you know that?" his eyes widened._

"_A little bird told me." She crossed her arms defiantly. "All right, it was Excidium. He knows more about Mother than most… ah, never mind. After all, __**I**__ sent you to console her, and you seem to have done a beautiful job of it. Bravo, William, you're a lifesaver. Just make sure your little girlfriend does not find out."_

"_Well," Laurence glanced at his boots, feeling too nervous all of a sudden to look her in the eye, "it is exactly her I wanted to talk to you about. Emily… I wanted you to learn it from me, and not from someone else…" He forced himself to look up and meet her eyes. "I proposed to Nancy yesterday and she accepted."_

"_Oh," Emily breathed, "that was quick."_

"_Not much quicker than for you and Granby."_

"_True," she admitted, her features looking impassive, as if her face had been carved of stone. "Well, I hope you aren't going to keep shagging Mother with Nancy as your fiancée..."_

"_No, Emily. By putting the engagement ring on Nancy's finger, I shall pledge to be faithful to her, just like you did with John." He cast a sad glance at her hand on which the engagement ring glinted in the afternoon sunshine. _

"_Good," she nodded and turned to leave, but something occurred to her and she doubled back. "By the way, I hope you aren't planning a double wedding…"_

"_No," he let out a cold, forced laugh. "John wants me as his best man, and if __**I**__ want him as __**my **__best man, we cannot get married at the same time. You are having an April wedding. We thought of a May one."_

"_Great. All the best," Emily said, this time truly turning to walk away. On instinct, Laurence caught her arm._

"_Emily…"_

"_What?" she said, her voice trembling, suggesting that she was fighting an inner battle to keep her tears at bay._

"_I love you. You and no one else. I wanted you to know that."_

"_Why?" she whispered. "Why, William? Haven't you said we should forget it all? I have almost managed to forget it, and now you come and remind me? Damn you, William, you have no right to play with my feelings like that!"_

"_I am not playing with them, Emily… for the last time in my life, I wanted to be honest about my feelings. Because from now on… my life will be a big lie. I will live in an honest marriage, and I expect so will you, but it will only be honest physically. Otherwise, it will be a lie for both of us. We are both like whores in this respect, Emily. We have sold ourselves to people we do not love, hoping that the purity of their souls will cleanse ours too. But it is a hope in vain… at least, for me it is." He ran a trembling hand down the side of her face, and when he withdrew it, his fingers were wet with tears. "I am sorry if I opened up old wounds. Pray forgive me, Emily."_

"_Oh, shut up," she whimpered, yanking him to herself and pressing her lips to his. Her kiss tasted salty from tears, yet it was sweeter than any he had received from Jane or Nancy, or even Edith. "I love you too," she said upon breaking the kiss, "but no, I will not forgive you."_

_With that, she turned on her heels and marched away, leaving Laurence shivering with cold, knowing that it was not the November chill that froze him. _

oOo

At the break of dawn, Iskierka sidled to Temeraire's pavilion and nudged him non-so-gently with her foreleg. "So, today is the big day, eh?"

"What?" he yawned, opening an eye. The whole covert around them was still fast asleep.

"The day of your captain's engagement! With rings and wine and everything fancy! My captain is throwing the party for them," Iskierka drew herself up, "because my Granby is such a generous, wonderful man… unlike certain captains…"

"What do you mean by that?" Temeraire frowned, blinking away all lingering drowsiness.

"Well…" she said in a nasty voice, "it appears to me that your captain is having an affair with my first lieutenant behind my Granby's back."

"What?" Temeraire gasped, the blood freezing in his veins.

"A week ago, when they thought I was fast asleep, your captain, that traitor, called Emily aside. And he said he loved her, and she said she loved him, and they kissed." She snorted, a tiny flame leaving her nostrils, scorching the rime-covered grass at the foot of the pavilion.

Temeraire's jaw dropped. "No. Laurence would not be that stupid to do something like that in public!"

"It was not done in public. Haven't I said they thought I was asleep? And no one else was around. But I saw it and heard it. Your traitor captain is trying to steal my captain's fiancée and make him unhappy! And I won't let that happen!"

"Hush, Iskierka! Do not even mention such things! Laurence is not trying to take Emily from Granby, he is marrying another woman!"

"But you don't seem too happy about that," she perceived.

"No," Temeraire admitted. "He is only doing that to give me an heir… he is sacrificing himself for my sake, although I told him he need not do that… But he is just so stubborn!"

"Like you are. Or like I am," Iskierka said, and Temeraire decided he did not in the least like the glint in her yellow eyes. There was something dangerous about it.

"What do you want?" he grunted.

"Lots of things, Temmie, dear…"

"I'm not Temmie to you…"

"Yes, yes, whatever… Firstly: I want your pavilion. Mine is leaky."

"Why not have a new one built on your prizes?" he grunted.

"We haven't had a decent naval battle for years. With no ships to take, we have run out of the prizes. No prizes, no money, no pavilion. So, your pavilion comes first. Then… we shall see."

"Don't expect me to give you an egg! I am not letting you blackmail me!"

"No? Are you sure?" she asked challengingly. "Isn't giving me an egg simpler and much less painful than seeing my Granby fall out with your Laurence?"

Temeraire gave her a revolted glance. "You are worse than when you hatched. You were only belligerent and selfish and overly stupid then. You are evil now."

"Evil? Me?" she scorched a bush nearby. "_You_ are evil for refusing me when I have not wanted any other dragon all my life, only you! You evil, stuck-up idiot, you think you're too good for me, eh?"

Temeraire stared at her in horror, not even knowing what to say. He had seen and heard her being jealous of everyone who had more shiny breast-plates and more opulently dressed captains than she did, but she had never shown this side of her jealousy. And Temeraire did not even know whom or what she was jealous of, but she definitely sounded like she were. Well, perhaps she was jealous of those dozens of female dragons he had tried to give an egg to… and that could only mean one thing: she was truly attracted to him. Not only to his Celestial-heritage, but to him, as a person. And that felt delighting and frightening at the same time.

Fearing that he would say something stupid if he replied to her question in his current, confused state, he merely said, "You may have the pavilion. Pray do not mention anything to Granby. It is not worth it, he would get upset without a reason. Laurence marries Nancy Collins."

"Well, he'd better," she snorted, this time managing not to set anything on fire, and sulkily turned away to leave, then stopped in her stride. "I'm not leaving. You get out of here. You are currently lying in _my _pavilion."

Suppressing a retort, Temeraire got up and slid out of the building, onto the cold and wet ground, giving the leaky pavilion in the distance a sour look. Perhaps Laurence will find out something to cover those holes on the roof. He would not give Iskierka the pleasure to see him uncomfortable. Not even if she truly had feelings for him. She still behaved like a spoiled child, and as long as that did not change, as long as she did not show a single act of selflessness, he was not going to mellow towards her.

oOo

**A/N: next chapter: Laurence's parents happen to take part in a mad aviator engagement party and Jane comes face to face with Lord Allendale. Awkwardness and insinuations follow. Until then, be so kind and leave a review! **


	8. Forsake All Other

**Chapter 8**

**Forsake All Other**

"A toast to my best friend and his charming fiancée," Granby raised his cup. "May they live happily together and have lots of little Laurences! Cheers!"

Everyone raised their cups and drank to the newly engaged couple's health. The dining room that housed the engagement party was not full: only about half of the aviators in the Dover covert cared to attend, the other half – involving people like Martin, Dunne and Hackley – still gave Laurence a wide berth.

It was just the beginning of the party, but Laurence suspected that some of the aviators were drunk already – Chenery at least definitely seemed to be having difficulties with standing upright.

All the way through the 'ceremonial' parts of the engagement – the giving of the ring and exchange of mutual promises – he had been avoiding Emily's eyes, even Jane's, trying to lose himself in his new fiancée's, who had really beautiful eyes. There was probably nothing else beautiful about her, but her greenish blue eyes were definitely captivating. And still, Laurence did not manage to drown in them, not like in Emily's…

As time passed, he wished more and more for the party to end, but it had not even started properly yet, as it was still early in the afternoon and most participants were still more or less sober. Just as he began thinking that he too should probably drink a little more to forget about his misery, Berkley tapped his shoulder. "Laurence, you've got guests waiting outside."

"Guests?" he raised an eyebrow at the other captain. "Everyone here is my guest."

"Nay, I don't think they are here for the party," Berkley shook his head, "unless you sent them official invitations. They look way too stiff for an aviators-only party like this… besides, they claim to be your parents. Heh, if they're truly your parents, I know where you got _your_ stiffness from!"

Laurence knitted his eyebrows. "My parents?"

"Have you invited them, Will?" Nancy asked.

"No. But I shall naturally find out what they are doing here. I shall be back soon," he told her, walking out of the dining hall.

A servant must have led Lord and Lady Allendale to the door of the hall, for they were waiting outside, the elderly woman slightly shivering on the cold corridor.

"Mother, Father," Laurence said, bowing in his father's direction and kissing his mother on the cheek. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Dispense with the formalities," his father grunted. "We were in town visiting Lord Davenport and his family, and I remembered your letter."

"The one I sent to you _two months_ ago?" Laurence said challengingly.

"Yes, that one. I am ready to discuss the matter with you, or with your… _admiral_," Lord Allendale replied with a hint of condescension in his voice and Laurence did not know whom it was directed at: at Jane as a woman, or at Jane as _the_ woman whom the old man had once bedded.

"Thank you, sir, you are most… generous," Laurence said. "Please, follow me."

With his parents in tow, he returned to the dining hall where the party was getting dangerously out of hand. Lady Allendale had to lift the hem of her skirt to step over a tiny yellowish pool that was hopefully only wine, and Laurence felt shame and amusement mingle inside of him as he saw the look of utter horror on his father's face. Then he reminded himself that Lord Allendale had no right to look so revolted by the drunken aviators, as apparently in the good old times he himself had attended a few parties of the lower social circles and obviously had not been repelled by them.

"Excuse me, madam," Captain Little hiccoughed and tripped over a chair, nearly making the poor Lady Allendale topple in the process. Laurence managed to catch her in time, and sending Little a dark glance, steered her as far away from the partygoers as possible.

Finally they reached a little more composed circle of people, and Laurence released his mother's arm. "Mother, Father, please let me introduce to you my fiancée, Lieutenant Nancy Collins. Nancy, these are my parents, Lord and Lady Allendale."

A tiny gasp indicated the old woman's surprise, and a grunt signalled Lord Allendale's displeasure as Nancy made a stiff, manly bow instead of a curtsey. Then again, she was wearing her aviator uniform that, lacking a skirt, did not allow for curtseying.

"Pleased to meet you, my dear," it was Lady Allendale who first spoke. "My son never mentioned he was engaged…"

"Very likely because he has just got engaged," Nancy replied cheerfully, "this is our engagement party."

"_This_?" Lord Allendale hissed. "William, I am speechless."

"Pray let us not discuss this here and now," Laurence said, giving his father a peremptory glance. "You are here to talk to Admiral Roland, if I am not mistaken, so let us get down to that. A moment please," he added, disappearing into the crowd, only to emerge half a minute later with Jane at his side. "Admiral Roland, you know my parents, I trust?"

"Yes, we have met," she said, sounding unusually reserved. With a tiny smile she inclined her head in Lady Allendale's direction, but Laurence's father she merely gave a curt nod, the smile she had intended for his mother wiped from her features in an instant.

"Have we?" Lord Allendale frowned. "I do not remember."

"I am quite sure you have," Laurence said, and if his mother had not been present, he would have undoubtedly reminded his father of the night of Emily's conception.

"Indeed, you two met at Wollaton Hall, seven years ago," Lady Allendale said helpfully, and Laurence's heart clenched at the thought of how pure his mother's intentions were, and how blissfully ignorant she was of everything. "She dropped in for a cow, remember, Jonathan?"

The old man gave the admiral a scrutinising stare. "Yes. Now I remember."

"Good," Jane said, and Laurence wondered if it was only him who heard the sarcasm in her voice. He truly hoped his mother did not.

He glanced at his father, trying to analyse his features, to see if he indeed recognised Jane Roland, and not only as the admiral who had required a cow seven years before, but also as the woman he had spent a night with twenty-one years ago. But Lord Allendale's features were unreadable – he wore his mask of impassivity as he always did in public. And probably he truly did not recognise Jane – twenty-one years was a long time to recognise someone with whom you have only spent a few hours.

"Well, Jonathan, why do you not go with Admiral Roland and William to talk about politics, while I talk to our future daughter-in-law?" Lady Allendale suggested, turning to Nancy. "I must apologise for my husband's behaviour. He is just not used to the… lifestyle of aviators. But I am sure he is most delighted to hear that our youngest son is finally settling down and he welcomes you to the family, right, Jonathan?"

Laurence had to bite into his lower lip to keep his face straight. The only person whom Lord Allendale ever feared was his wife, who was possibly the gentlest woman in the world. It was exactly her gentleness, her exceeding faith in people that her husband found frightening. But that did not mean Lady Allendale was stupid, far from it. She knew perfectly well how to use her gentleness strictly if needed, making her less of a victim in her marriage and more of a wife who always got what she wanted in the end. And Laurence never ceased to admire her for that.

"Yes, of course," Lord Allendale grunted, giving Nancy a cursory glance, and turned to Jane to lead her somewhere quieter as Lady Allendale spoke up, "Do I know you, my dear?"

Laurence froze. It was Emily who had tried to slip through the crowd, out of the hall, but as she had nearly knocked Berkley and Sipho over, she attracted the lady's attention – just what she had very likely wanted to avoid. She stopped in her stride and looked at Laurence's parents, her cheeks pale, her eyes wide.

"Me, my lady?" she said, swallowing hard.

"Oh, yes, of course I know you!" Lady Allendale said cheerfully. "We met at Wollaton Hall, during the invasion!"

"Yes, my lady," Emily nodded with a grim expression. "I still like that necklace a lot."

"Necklace?" Lord Allendale raised an eyebrow at her, and his features suggested he too had just recognised her. "You are the same little girl from that party… only you have grown."

"Yes, my lord," Emily said, giving Laurence a quick, pleading glance, as if expecting him to save her from this awkward situation, from facing herfather. _Their _father.

Laurence felt himself blanch at first then blush right thereafter – he did not know if his parents still believed Emily to be his natural-born daughter. Perhaps Lady Allendale had understood during the invasion that if Emily had been raised to be an aviator, she could not possibly be his daughter, but Laurence was not sure if his mother had ever told his father that the little girl they had thought to be their granddaughter actually was not. However, he was almost completely sure that his father had not yet made the connection between Jane Roland and Emily, therefore did not know that the young girl before him was not his son's daughter, but his own.

"I believe we should withdraw to my office," Jane said suddenly, clearly intent on saving her daughter from the unwanted attention she was getting from Lord and Lady Allendale. "Shall we?"

"Yes, of course," Lord Allendale averted his glance from Emily. Laurence also tore his gaze from the girl and turned to his fiancée. "Pray forgive me, Nancy. I shall be back as soon as I can."

"Oh, never mind, dearest. Take your time."

Laurence followed Jane and his father out of the hall, and despite the seriousness of the situation, he felt slightly amused by the frown on his father's face – Lord Allendale definitely was not used to the manly forwardness Jane had addressed him with… or perhaps he was just embarrassed about a certain memory in connection with her, _if_ he still had that memory at all.

o

"So, my dear, it seems we have been left alone," Lady Allendale said, turning to Nancy. "Or almost alone," she added, stepping out of the way of a staggering midwingman. "I suggest we go somewhere quieter, what do you think?"

"Gladly, my lady. What about a stroll outside? It is chilly, but not horribly cold yet…"

"Very good idea, dear," the elderly woman nodded. "Actually, I would love to meet Temeraire, he is outside somewhere, is he not? Let us walk to him, shall we?"

Nancy nodded and yanked her coat off a hook. "I am ready."

"Will you support an old woman?" Lady Allendale asked, and Nancy, looking somewhat confused by the lady's informality and friendliness towards an aviator, let her take her arm.

The sun shone weakly, its rays offered no heat anymore, and for minutes they silently trod on the shallow carpet of snow.

"I am very glad about my son's engagement," Lady Allendale said all of a sudden, gently patting Nancy's hand. "You have no idea, dear child, how long I have waited for him to find the right girl and get married. God knows he has suffered enough, and all his life he has longed for warmth and comfort he never got from anyone. I naturally tried to offer him some of it, but you know how boys are: over the age of six, they claim that accepting a mother's pampering is unmanly." She let out a chuckle. "All three of my boys were like that, but that is partly because of my husband's strictness. He never offered any gentleness to any of them and it was William who received the least attention from him. I believe it is exactly a wife my son needs, and of course, children of his own. Thank you so much for volunteering to give him that, dear Nancy."

The young woman flushed slightly, feeling Lady Allendale's gaze on her. "You must understand something, my lady," she said. "I… I know I am not pretty, and I have no illusions. I am perfectly aware your son isn't in love with me, but I believe I love him enough for both of us. I know he is only marrying me in order to give Temeraire a future captain… I suppose the admiral no longer could or she was simply unwilling…"

Lady Allendale stopped in her stride. "The admiral?"

"Yes," Nancy nodded. "They used to be lovers, did you not know that?"

"No," the elderly woman said and resumed walking. Years and years ago at Wollaton Hall she had come to understand that little Emily was not her granddaughter, and after that, she had not assumed that anything could have happened between her son and Jane Roland. It felt strange to find out that something actually had. It felt even stranger to think that her son was marrying someone he did not love. From his boyhood, William had always been head over heels in love with Edith Galman, and Lady Allendale's heart had bled upon hearing that Edith married someone else – someone she obviously did not love, leaving both William and herself unhappy. Now her son was doing the same, and only for an heir? Only because his duty towards his dragon required that of him? That was so… unlike her son.

"Well, there is Temeraire," Nancy pointed at a huge form lying in the snow ahead. "But why isn't he in his pavilion? Why is Iskierka using his pavilion when she has one of her own?"

"I fear I have no idea who Iskierka is," Lady Allendale replied, "unless she is that huge, red dragon inside that pavilion."

"Yes, that is her," Nancy frowned. "Curious. Well, my lady, I expect you wish to talk to Temeraire alone. Shall I wait for you nearby, or…?"

"Oh, no, thank you, dear. I will find my way back," Lady Allendale patted Nancy's hand again. "Thank you once more for accompanying me here, it has been a pleasure to talk to you. I hope we get to meet before the wedding again… speaking of which, when are you planning to have it?"

"In May, my lady."

"That is a lovely time of the year," the elderly woman nodded, trying to look happy and hopeful, although her heart went out to this young woman who was willing to marry and love a man who did not love her back. But perhaps with time, William would grow to love her. And perhaps Nancy was not right at all and William did have feelings for her that he had not yet revealed or not yet realised himself. "I can barely wait to see my William standing before the altar with you," she added, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. "Oh, pray forgive me for mentioning this, but… you _will_ wear a dress for the wedding, will you not?"

Nancy let out a small laugh. "Yes, my lady. I intend to. And perhaps then…" her smile faded, "perhaps then William will find me at least a bit pretty."

o

Hearing someone approach, although their footsteps were muffled by the snow, Temeraire looked up. He was more than surprised to see Laurence's mother walking towards him. What could she be doing here?

"Lady Allendale, how nice to see you!" he greeted her, his previous annoyance about Iskierka's blackmail all but disappeared. "Have you come to see Laurence? Where is he then?"

"He is with his father and Admiral Roland," she replied, reaching out and gently patting the dragon's muzzle. "They are talking about politics."

"Oh, I thought Laurence was with Nancy, celebrating their engagement… although," he leaned closer and said as quietly as possible, "I do not see why he would celebrate something that does not make him happy…"

"You mean… it is true? Does he really not love his fiancée?" Lady Allendale sighed. "I have so had hoped that Nancy has only misunderstood William's feelings… you know, those who are not… well, handsome, tend to believe themselves unworthy of another person's attraction… But apparently I was hoping in vain."

"I fear you were," Temeraire hung his head. "Laurence does not love her, he loves someone else who is actually marrying his best friend, and he is also sad because another woman whom he does not love only likes lost their egg well before it could have been laid. And that is why he is marrying Nancy although he does not even love her."

Lady Allendale froze. "You mean… William got someone with child?"

"Yes, I think that is what humans call it," Temeraire shrugged, "but pray do not tell him I told you that. I am not sure if he would be happy to know…"

"Well, _I_ am not happy to know either," the woman said with knitted eyebrows. "What about the other woman… the one he actually loves? Is she the same you talked about at Wollaton Hall over the summer? The one who is forbidden for him?"

Temeraire silently nodded.

"Then I understand why she was forbidden for him… she is engaged to someone else."

Temeraire ran his claws across the snow, absent-mindedly drawing Chinese letters, or symbols that resembled Chinese letters but probably made no sense at all; he felt too embarrassed and guilty to even pay attention to his 'clawmanship'. He had promised Laurence not to talk to anyone about Emily being his sister, therefore Lady Allendale belonged to those who were not supposed to find out. Or, as Laurence had once put it, his mother was _the one_ who may absolutely, under no circumstances find out. Temeraire did not fully understand why, as for him the human concept of faith to a mate was weird and unusual, but he was not going to break the promise he had made Laurence. Now, as he thought of promises that needed to be kept, it occurred to him that Laurence had once likened fidelity in marriage to a promise that may not be broken. And that, at least, made a little sense.

"So, are you telling me that William has three women in his life at once? One he loves but cannot approach, one he keeps as a lover but only likes, and one he does not love, does not even like, but still gets married to?" Lady Allendale spoke up after a long, deep and heavy silence.

"Well, yes, I think that is the case," Temeraire said innocently, "although he said he was going to stop mating with Jane as soon as he got officially engaged to Nancy, so… the three are now reduced to two. That is a whole lot better, is it not?"

The old woman's eyes widened. "Jane? But Nancy said their relationship was in the past… or was she wrong? Is it the admiral who got pregnant with his child?"

"Yes. Why?"

Lady Allendale shook her head. It was scandalising and so, so very ironic… She and her husband had once believed that a certain Jane Roland had had a daughter by their son, which assumption had turned out to be false. And just to think that the same Jane Roland truly could have had William's daughter… or son…

And that was when something occurred to her. Emily Roland's face flashed into her mind, as clearly as though she were standing right next to her; and there was something in the girl's eyes that Lady Allendale had not paid attention to in the dining hall. Something she had just understood.

"It is Emily Roland, is it not?" she asked in a wavering voice. "The one my son loves."

"How do you know?" Temeraire's deep blue eyes widened in surprise.

"I have put the small pieces of a big picture together," the lady replied with a sad smile. "She does love him back, does she not?"

"Yes, my lady. They love each other. Very, very much."

"Then why do they not marry each other?"

"Please, Lady Allendale, ask something else, anything else but this!" Temeraire groaned. "If you are so interested in relationships, ask me how I liked mating with Mei in China. Or ask me if I liked Felicita or those dozen dragon girls in the breeding grounds… or ask me why I am not willing to give Iskierka an egg… anything, but please, leave Laurence and Emily!"

"Actually, I would like to know your reasoning about the egg too," Iskierka spoke up from the nearby pavilion.

"Oh, hush, I was not talking to you," Temeraire grunted. "Besides, eavesdropping is not very nice."

"Nice or not, I don't care! You never told me why you refused me that egg, so it is time you told me at last," the female dragon bristled. "Did your husband ever refuse to give you an egg?" she shot Lady Allendale a meaningful glance.

The elderly woman shuddered a bit in the crossfire of the Kazilik's yellow eyes, but her voice did not reveal any discomfort as she replied, "If you are talking about children, then no. A husband cannot refuse his wife, nor can a wife refuse her husband. Procreation of children is their duty once they are married."

"But you and I are not married," Temeraire snapped at Iskierka, "so I have every right to refuse you."

"You were not married to Mei or Felicita or any of the others, and you did not refuse them!" the female dragon shot back, a smallish flame leaving her throat in the process, making Lady Allendale jump and hide behind Temeraire's foreleg.

"Because I loved Mei and I took pity on Felicita who was sick! As for the others: I was forced to be with them! _Forced!_ Do you have any idea what it is like to be forced to mate?"

"No," Iskierka said in a whiny voice. "How could I know that?"

"Well… I do not know about dragon mating habits," the elderly woman said, her earlier pallor replaced by a slight blush, "but I am sure Temeraire must have felt very bad. It must have been humiliating, do you not think, Iskierka?"

The female dragon gave Laurence's mother a curious glance. "I never thought of that before…"

"No wonder, you never think," Temeraire said under his breath.

"Do you think that telling me such things is not humiliating?" Iskierka snapped.

"It might be, but it is also humiliating that you try to force yourself on me and do not leave me the chance to approach you myself!"

"As if you would ever… wait," Iskierka blinked. "Would you have approached me… had I not been so straightforward?"

"I do not know," Temeraire said sulkily, "you never gave me a chance to find out. Lady Allendale, let us rather talk about something else. How is little Felicity doing?"

"She is well and misses you dearly," the elderly woman replied, but before Temeraire could carry on, she turned back to Iskierka. "You know, my dear, males like to conquer. Sometimes they prefer a fiery woman who reigns over them, but in most cases they like to keep things in their hands, and sometimes we need to let them do that. Sometimes we need to be withdrawn and… ladylike."

"Ladylike?" Iskierka echoed her.

"As if," Temeraire snorted. "Lady Allendale, I would earlier mate with Lien than to see Iskierka act ladylike… and I must add that Lien is dead."

"You too are dead in my eyes," Iskierka said nastily. "Do not even expect me to ask for an egg ever again! I do not want anything from you!"

"Not even my pavilion?" Temeraire challenged.

"That does not count, you already gave it to me. I was talking about the future," Iskierka replied, sulkily curling her tail around herself and turning away.

As Temeraire glanced back on Lady Allendale, he was surprised to see a very unladylike grin on her face.

"Feisty little girl, eh?" she said in a conspiratorial tone, patting Temeraire's foreleg. "I like her. And so do you, I am sure of it. You two would make a nice couple, just like…" her voice trailed off, and the grin vanished from her face.

"You know it cannot be," he said gently, aware that she was referring to Laurence and Emily.

"No, Temeraire, I do not know, because I do not understand why they cannot be together," the lady shook her head. "Of course, William is much older, but he is not her father, after all…"

"No," Temeraire bent his head on his foreleg, sadly observing the greyish grass poking out from under the snow. "Pray do not question me further. I cannot tell you. I promised Laurence to keep it a secret."

Lady Allendale's shoulders sagged in defeat, and she once again reached out to stroke his muzzle. "A promise is a promise. It needs to be kept. But you asked me about Felicity," she carried on in a lighter tone that Temeraire assumed was slightly forced. "There has not been a single day since you left that she has not mentioned you and the flights you took her and her siblings for... I must admit I have got curious myself… Look, there is William coming with my husband! Do you think he would take me for a round?"

Temeraire's jaw dropped and he needed several seconds to find his voice. "Well… even if he would not, I certainly would."

The lady's lips tucked into a mischievous smile. "Then let us wait for him and ask him. He cannot deny his mother a little fun…"

o

"I must give it to her, your admiral is a very clever woman," Lord Allendale said as he and Laurence left Jane Roland's office. "A little sarcastic and unusually manly, but… bright. Exceptionally so."

"Yes, she is," Laurence nodded uneasily. His father was not speaking like someone who had recognised Jane for the woman he had once slept with, and Laurence could not decide if that was a good thing or a bad one. He would have liked to see his father suffer from pangs of remorse upon facing the memories of his infidelity, but knowing that it would cause unpleasant moments for others as well, probably it was better if Lord Allendale did not recognise her. Laurence dared not think what his father would do upon realising that 'little' Emily was _his_ daughter, not that of his son… and if Lord Allendale realised it, the chances were slim that Lady Allendale would not find out as well.

As they entered the dining hall, expecting to find Laurence's mother there, Lord Allendale stopped in the doorframe. The hall was full of drunk and cheering aviators, and – God forbid – a female lieutenant was dancing on the tabletop.

"Find your mother and let us go this instant," the old man barked at his son, "I am not staying a single second longer in this moral sewer!"

A vein throbbed in Laurence's temple as he nearly burst out himself 'You did not so much despise such moral sewers twenty years ago, did you?', but he held back in case his mother happened to be nearby. But as it turned out, his mother was not even in the hall, for which Laurence felt grateful: he would not have been happy if the precious Lady Allendale had been bodily harmed by a drunkard or even just scandalised by the aviators' riotous way of celebrating.

Well, he had to admit to himself that he had imagined his engagement party quite differently in his youth… Had he married Edith, his engagement party would have been held at Wollaton Hall or at the adjacent Galman estate, with only fine ladies and gentlemen attending. Not that he felt ashamed of his aviator companions – he was long beyond that. And perhaps it was useful for his father to be reminded of the times when he had occasionally shed the 'mask' Jane had been sure he had been wearing in fine society. These people here at least dared to be themselves, to show the world that they loved to live: true, many of them were churlish and careless, but they were at least upright. His father was not.

"Nancy, have you seen my mother?" Laurence asked his fiancée who was sipping a glass of punch and chatting with Harcourt.

"Yes, Will, she is outside with Temeraire. I escorted her there," she replied.

Laurence felt both relieved and nervous: relieved because his mother had apparently not suffered any bodily harm and Temeraire was undoubtedly taking good care of her, but nervous because leaving his mother alone with his dragon was not necessarily a good idea. Temeraire, though he was exceptionally clever, had a dangerous tendency of letting things slip. And he knew quite enough of Laurence's secrets to upset Lady Allendale.

"Thank you," Laurence gave Nancy a quick peck on the cheek and hurried for the door where his father was standing like a statue of marble, refusing to budge. "Mother is outside with Temeraire. Let us go and retrieve her, shall we?"

Lord Allendale nodded grimly and despite his old age, hurried out of the hall as though he were young and agile – or perhaps he was just fleeing the 'moral sewer'.

As they left the building, he spoke up. "Your fiancée…"

"Yes?" Laurence asked flatly.

"She is neither pretty, nor particularly young. Does she have a respectable family status at all? Or if not that, money at least?"

Laurence refused the urge to roll his eyes. "She is an aviator, sir. A third lieutenant. She might never be a captain herself, so no, I cannot say she has a particularly respectable status in the Corps. As for her family, she has a widowed mother and three younger siblings who live in Birmingham. Her mother is a seamstress. As you can guess, she has no money."

"Then _what_ does she have?" Lord Allendale asked, exasperated.

"A kind heart, sir," Laurence replied with a withering glance, "and a willingness to provide me with the heir I need to give Temeraire."

"So you are only marrying her for a child?" the old man said harshly. "Sullying the family name in marrying a commoner, and all that for a child?"

"Yes, Father." Laurence stopped in his tracks. "For _I_ will not have a child out of wedlock. Speaking of which, let me clear things at last. Emily Roland is _not_ my daughter. She is not _my_ daughter."

"What is this funny cadence, William?" Lord Allendale knitted his eyebrows, giving his son his strictest glance that used to intimidate Laurence in his boyhood. It no longer did.

As if he had not heard his father's question, Laurence began walking again. "I am not in love with Nancy, that is true, but I respect her, and I shall do everything in my power to make her happy to thank her for her love and devotion. Today I publicly promised her fidelity, and I always keep my promises. _I_ shall never cheat on my wife."

"What are you implying, son?" Lord Allendale grunted, his voice nearly menacing.

"You know exactly what I am implying," Laurence said coldly. "You talk of my fellow-aviators like they were scum and you preach about family honour like you were a saint, but you cannot deceive me, not any longer!"

"William! What. Are. You. Implying?" Lord Allendale raised his voice.

Laurence heaved a deep sigh. "You know that well enough, and I shall not argue with you, sir. Not because I would not like to, but because I have to keep the Corps's interests in mind. You and Wilberforce can help us, and for the sake of that help, I am trying to be civil here. I shall not disappoint Admiral Roland in severing the ties that may connect us with the House of Lords. Pray forgive me for my outburst and let us forget it."

"William, I want to know–"

"Laurence, hey, Laurence!" Temeraire's voice called out to them across the snow-covered grounds. "Your mother wishes to go for a flight, shall we take her?"

"What?" Both father and son gasped, their earlier conversation all but forgotten.

o

Temeraire made a swerve in mid-air, stirring wind with his enormous wings, going into a sudden nose-dive.

"Wheeee!" Lady Allendale yelped, pressing her hands on her lips immediately, as if she were embarrassed about this exuberant, unladylike moment.

"Shout all you like, no one can hear you, and I swear I will not tell Father," Laurence laughed, his hands gently encircling her waist for comfort, although she was safely strapped to the harness.

"William, this is… this is…"

"Amazing," he finished the sentence for her, and she merely nodded, at a loss for word. "I know the feeling, Mother. I felt the same when I first had the chance to enjoy a flight on Temeraire… although that was only our second flight, for our first was a dangerous rescue of a man who had been thrown overboard by the storm." He reached out and patted Temeraire's neck. "I was so proud of my Temeraire then… and so ashamed of myself…"

"Ashamed of yourself?" Lady Allendale found her voice. "Why?"

"Because up till then he had regarded me as a burden that cut him off from a prosperous and happy life," Temeraire replied matter-of-factly before Laurence could.

The captain froze in his seat. "Temeraire… how did you know? I never told you that!"

"I figured out… but only later. Pray never feel ashamed of that, Laurence, it is part of our history together, and without humble beginnings, we would be lacking something."

"My dear, I was so very wrong at first…"

"Perhaps you were," Temeraire craned his neck, looking guilty, "but only partly. Your life is not exactly prosperous, is it?"

"No, but…"

"Nor is it perfectly happy, is it?" Temeraire pressed.

"Temeraire, please! I do not want for anything and I am content, that is just enough. I cannot imagine what I would do without you. I would not exchange this life for any life without you."

"I think… I can understand that," Lady Allendale sniffed as they flew over the coastline. The white cliffs of Dover shone in the sunset, the thin layer of snow on them nearly melding with the whiteness of the rocks so that you could not tell where the snow-cap ended and the cliffs began. "You and Temeraire have the most beautiful friendship I have ever seen… and well, the sight is not bad either," she chuckled, wiping her tears. "I never thought I would see the world… from this perspective. This is worth everything. Your father can regret he did not want to come."

Laurence let out a small laugh. "I must admit I am glad he did not. He would probably only grumble and ruin our moods."

"Your father is not that bad, William," she said with gentle scolding, hugging herself against the scathing wind. "You just never had a chance to properly get to know him."

Laurence bit into his lower lip and pulled his mother closer to himself to shield her as much from the cold as possible. It was getting harder and harder to keep silent, but he had to, for this precious woman's sake. She was so blissfully ignorant… he had no right to ruin that.

"As for what Temeraire said about happiness," Lady Allendale went on, her voice slightly wavering, "I know how you feel about Emily Roland."

Laurence stiffened. "Temeraire! Why must you always–"

"It was not Temeraire who told me," his mother shook her head. "I guessed it myself. I saw the glances you two exchanged. And I wonder, why do you not do something about it?"

Laurence would have given anything to be able to tell her the truth, because outside Temeraire no one understood him as well as his mother, but she was the last person he wanted to share this particular piece of information with. "Because I cannot."

"That is what Temeraire said when I questioned him," she replied, "but he refused to say why not."

"See, Laurence, I kept silent!" Temeraire interjected.

"Apparently not silent enough," the captain grunted. "Mother, this is my life. Let me live it as I please!"

"Let you ruin it as you please?" she turned around slightly in her seat and arched an eyebrow at him. "Let you ruin Emily's life as well? And Nancy's? And that of Emily's fiancé? All four of you will suffer."

Laurence's gaze was fixed on the horizon. "Granby will not. He does not doubt that she loves him. As for Nancy… I shall learn to love her. Never fear for that, Mother."

"And what about… Admiral Roland?" Lady Allendale said with a slight rebuke.

"What… what about her?" Laurence swallowed. What had Temeraire let slip again?

"I know about you two. Nancy told me."

Laurence let out a sigh of relief. Nancy had no idea about Jane's pregnancy…

"And a little bird told me about a miscarriage too…" Lady Allendale went on.

"A little bird? Are you sure it was not a huge Celestial instead?" Laurence shot his dragon a piercing glance, but Temeraire looked overly innocent as he craned his neck to glance at them.

"You never told me to keep that a secret from your mother," he said in his defence, "and she had to find out that the reason why you were so desperate about marrying Nancy and giving her an egg was that you had lost another. It was only fair to tell her…"

Laurence stifled a groan. This was much, much worse than having his parents believe Emily to be his daughter…

"I will not tell your father, if that is what you are worried about," Lady Allendale said gently. "I just hope you shall be more considerate in the future."

"Of course, Mother," Laurence sighed. "No more escapades in this respect, I promise. I shall forsake all other and keep myself to Nancy alone."

"That's my boy," Lady Allendale patted his hand. "One more dive, Temeraire?"

"Gladly, my lady."

After several more delighted yelps from Lady Allendale, they touched down by Temeraire's – currently Iskierka's pavilion – where Lord Allendale was waiting for them with a sour expression, shivering in the winter twilight. Iskierka was nowhere to be seen – she had probably gone to have dinner – and Laurence suddenly remembered to ask his dragon what he had meant to ask before the flight. "Temeraire, what was Iskierka doing in your pavilion when we arrived?"

"Oh, well…" the dragon looked embarrassed and began drawing Chinese symbols into the snow again.

Seeing his uneasiness, Lady Allendale helped him out by speaking up in a voice unusually girly and cheerful for someone of her age and social status, "Jonathan, you should have come! It was the most amazing experience of my life! I am sure William would gladly take you too…"

Laurence was not so sure himself that he would ever gladly take his father for a ride, but thankfully the old man shook his head with a grimace. "Me? On a beast like that? Never!"

"Beg your pardon, but I am not a beast but a dragon," Temeraire said, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Well, perhaps you are less of a beast," Lord Allendale sized him up from head to toe, "but that female one who was sleeping here when we arrived… she _is_ a real beast. Once she found out I was a 'lord' married to a 'lady', she would not leave me alone until I explained to her exactly what 'ladylike behaviour' meant!"

Laurence had not the slightest idea why his mother burst out laughing. It rarely happened that his father made anyone laugh.

oOo

**A/N: the next chapter is my favourite – perhaps because it's so very evil. XD Until I release that, please comment on this one. :)**


	9. The Fall

**A/N: **thanks to _Nimbus Llewelyn, Anna Scathach, Polyarny, vengur_ and _LittleHogwartsGirl _for reviewing the previous chapter.

_vengur:_ nope, I didn't know it, but now I've checked out her LJ, and she says it's a girl. :)

**We have arrived to a turning point in the story. The chapter title is meant in its biblical sense… so beware. ;)**

**Chapter 9**

**The Fall**

More or less satisfied with the achievements of her discussion with Lord Allendale, Jane headed back to the dining hall. Just as she arrived before the entrance to the hall, she saw Laurence leave the building with his father.

This was definitely the most unusual engagement party she had ever seen, Jane decided as she entered. For one, neither the groom-to-be nor the bride-to-be invited their parents or any of their relatives, and yet, the groom-to-be's parents made an appearance, upsetting more than one of the attendees.

Nancy did not seem to be a happy future bride at all as she withdrew into a corner with Harcourt, Laurence himself had not seemed happy either – neither about the fact that he was getting engaged, nor about his parents' unexpected visit –, and naturally, Emily had been distraught as well.

Now as Jane looked around in the hall, she realised that she did not see her daughter anywhere.

"Berkley, have you seen Emily?" she tapped the captain's shoulder.

"No, Admiral, she must've left some time ago…"

Jane's eyes found Granby who was deep in conversation – and drinking – with Chenery and Little, and Emily was nowhere around him. This could only mean one thing: she had fled. And Jane could easily guess why. Firstly, it must have been very hard for Emily to attend her one true love's engagement party when her aforementioned love was getting engaged to someone else. Secondly, coming face to face with her father, the man she blamed for all her misery must have upset her enough to make her unable to stay and keep up a façade of cheerfulness.

Jane had not talked more than a few words to Emily since Waterloo, for over five months, and she had hoped her daughter would be the one to take the first step to mend their spoiled relationship. By now it had become obvious for her that the first step had to be taken by her.

Two and a half months earlier, when she had miscarried, Emily had made a timid attempt at approaching her, but then Jane had been too shaken to accept it, and the way she had emotionally shut herself away from the world must have discouraged Emily to try again. It was now Emily who needed support, and Jane intended to give her that.

She left the dining hall and marched down the corridor and up the stairs with long, manly steps, soon arriving to her daughter's room. She knocked on the door, but no one replied.

"Emily, are you in there?" she repeated the knock.

"Go away," the girl's voice replied shakily.

Jane took this as a cue to enter.

"I said go away," Emily grunted, but her voice was muffled as she was sitting on her bed, her legs drawn up, her face pressed to her knees.

"I heard you, and I was sure you did not mean it." Jane closed the door behind her and sat down on the bed next to her daughter.

"I did mean it," Emily said grouchily, still not lifting her head.

"Perhaps you did, but your sending me away was just like my cold silence when you came to me after my miscarriage." Jane reached out and gently ran a hand across her daughter's sandy locks. "Deep in my heart I wished you would stay, but something still made me look away, pretend that I did not want you there… and I am so sorry about that, Emily."

The girl sniffed and looked up. "_You_ are sorry?" she whispered, wiping her tears. "_I_ am sorry, Mother! Had I not called you those horrible things, you wouldn't have miscarried! _I _killed my little brother or sister!"

"Don't be silly," Jane continued stroking Emily's hair. "It was not you. I was just too old to bear a child. I am sure I would have miscarried either way."

"I'm not sure you would have. It was my fault, Mother, and you have every reason to be mad at me!" Emily bit into her lower lip. "It would have been a child born from true affection, unlike me! You would have had a child from a wonderful man this time, not like… like that time…" Fresh tears ran down her cheeks and she did not even bother to wipe them. "I hate my father… so, so much!"

"Emily, dearest…" Jane slipped closer and pulled her daughter into her arms, gently rocking her like she had in Emily's childhood. "Stop blaming yourself… and please do not blame your father either. He is just a man, after all. They are like that, you have to accept it. They may act like a knight in shining armour in public, but when a woman offers herself to them, they do not usually say no. I'm not saying there are no exceptions, but they are few and far between. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

Emily drew back a bit, looking Jane in the eye. "I have blamed you long enough, Mother. I no longer can. I want to blame him instead. That… Lord Allendale," she spat the name with utter disgust.

Jane let out a frustrated sigh. "I know it must have been very hard for you to meet him and be treated by him like the same unknown little girl he had met years ago… but I hope you do not want to let him know about… the ties between you?"

Emily snorted. "That's the last thing I would ever do! I just hated having him here, even if only for a few minutes…"

"I can imagine that." Jane once again hugged her daughter, trying to offer her as much comfort as possible.

"Mother…?"

"Yes?"

"It was very different to be expecting William's child, wasn't it?"

"In many ways it was."

"Was it better…?"

Jane kissed Emily's temple. "Better and worse at the same time."

"I don't understand," the girl muttered into her mother's shoulder.

"When I got pregnant with you, I did it with a purpose, based on rationality only. I did not feel anything for your father, but I still loved you from the moment I knew you were growing inside of me. You were conceived out of duty. Laurence's child… was an accident, both pleasant and unpleasant, but yes, I did love it too. And yes… for him I felt more than for his father. Much, much more."

Emily looked up with blood-shot eyes. "Are you in love with him?"

"No, my dear. But I do love him, as a friend. And a little differently from my other friends."

"Sure, you don't sleep with your other friends," Emily said with a small chuckle. "Mother… is he really that good in bed?"

It was Jane's turn to chuckle. "Yes. Very good."

"You will be missing him, won't you?"

"Indeed," Jane ruffled Emily hair. "But I have accepted the fact that he is Nancy's now."

"It is just ironic… he could have belonged to either of us… and now he belongs to neither of us. And I belong to John."

"Yes… speaking of which, how is the dear Captain Granby in bed?"

"Mother!" Emily said, half-amused, half-scandalised. "I have no idea! We haven't yet…"

"Then perhaps you should," Jane fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and began drying her daughter's face. "There's nothing like good sex to help when you're sad…"

"Mother, are you trying to corrupt me?" Emily crossed her arms, but her eyes glinted with mischief.

"No, my dear, it is just a suggestion. You have to make your own choices. But I'm sure Granby would not mind." With a wink, she rose to her feet. "Or you can just sleep it off. That usually helps too."

"You have helped just enough," Emily sent her mother a grateful smile. "Thank you."

o

Emily fought an inner battle with herself to decide whether she should go and have dinner at all – whether she should appear in public in her current state of disarray –, but the rumbling of her stomach eventually decided it for her. She washed her face and applied a bit of powder under her eyes to make some of the redness disappear. She made a grimace as she pushed the powder box back into the drawer – she had received it from her mother along her first silk dress and pearl necklace almost nine years earlier, but she had never used it before and she was sure she would not use it for quite some time again.

The dining hall was far from full that evening as many of the aviators who had attended the engagement party were drunk, either snoring in their rooms, or moaning with serious headaches. Some of the rubbish from the party still littered the floor; the covert's cleaners very likely had not had enough time between the end of the party and the beginning of dinner to tidy up the hall.

"You okay, honey?" Granby dropped himself into the chair next to her. His breath smelled of alcohol, but at least he was not drunk.

"Yes, of course, why?" she said, absent-mindedly toying with her Yorkshire pudding.

"You disappeared halfway through the party. I only realised you were gone when Laurence returned after his parents had left. You are not sick, are you?"

"No, I'm just a little tired," Emily sighed. "How did the party go, by the way?"

"At least two dozen people are having a serious hangover, so I could say the party was a success," Granby laughed. "Thankfully at least the lovebirds didn't get drunk…"

"The lovebirds?" Emily asked, her mind too sluggish to comprehend whom her fiancé was referring to.

"Laurence and Nancy, of course. Oh, look at them, aren't they sweet together?" he pointed at the other end of the hall were his friend was sitting next to his fiancée, deep in conversation with her.

"Yes," Emily sighed. "They are very sweet." She put down her fork. Although her stomach was still grumbling, she had completely lost her appetite.

"I must admit I'm quite relieved by their engagement," Granby whispered, leaning closer to her.

"Relieved?" Emily frowned at him, glad to have an opportunity to tear her glance from Laurence.

"Yes," her fiancé's cheeks flushed a bit. "I was sort of… you know… unsure of his feelings for you."

"His feelings for me?" Emily froze. "What… what are you talking about?"

Granby shrugged. "Well… I still remember that kiss at Waterloo… and I'm sure everyone else does who witnessed it. It was very passionate. I thought that you and him–"

"No!" Emily said quickly. "We are not."

"I know you _are_ not… but _were_ you never…?"

"Never," Emily breathed. "Pray let us not talk about Laurence."

"As you wish," Granby said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Besides, it seems our discussion topic is leaving anyway…"

Emily involuntarily looked up and saw that Laurence and Nancy walked out of the hall arm in arm. She swallowed hard and grabbed her fork again but did not continue eating.

"Heh, I bet they're going to hold their private little engagement party now…" Granby chuckled. "Dear, you are making that fork bend…"

"Oh," Emily dropped the unfortunate piece of cutlery. "I'm not hungry any more. I'd rather lie down. Will you escort me to my room?"

"Naturally," Granby rose to his feet, a look of worry on his face. "Are you sure you are doing well?" he asked as they walked down the corridor. "You are so silent…"

"Yes, I'm fine," she sent him a watery smile. They had just reached her room and she pushed the door open. "I'm fine… but a little gentleness would surely make me feel better…"

"Emily, what do you mean…?"

"You know what I mean," she said, and non-so-gently pushing him inside, pressed her lips to his. Granby fervently kissed her back, but after a few moments Emily realised that it was only he kissing her, she had stopped moving her lips against his. Chiding herself for lack of enthusiasm, she quickly began fumbling with his neckcloth. His hands roamed on her back, pulling her closer to himself, and soon she felt the evidence of his desire pressed to her stomach. And at that moment she froze. She did not want this. She did not feel drawn to him, not in the least…

_Oh, for heaven's sake, it's just sex, and perhaps I will like it after all… a Roland does not get frightened by a bit of shagging!_

Just as she reached out to dig her fingers into his hair to encourage him, Granby drew back, panting heavily.

"This is not right," he said.

"Not… right?" Emily's eyes widened. "But… we're engaged!"

"Yes, but that's not the same as married…" he cast his eyes down. "I want to… do things properly with you, Emily. And the proper way is waiting till the wedding night."

Emily arched an eyebrow at him. "You mean… you wouldn't have sex with a woman until you married her? Are you still a virgin, John?"

"Heavens, no," he laughed nervously, tucking a stray dark lock behind his left ear. "But… that woman meant nothing. It was just a fling… many years ago. I wouldn't do the same with you. You mean a lot to me, Emily, and it's _you_ I want to marry."

"That does not mean you cannot offer me some… comfort," she said uneasily. She could not decide if she should be relieved or upset about the interrupted foreplay. She felt both.

"If you want comfort…" he gently ran a finger down the side of her face, "I can stay for the night and sleep with you. Sleep only. How does that sound?"

Her lips tucked into a warm smile and she cuddled up to him again, bending her head on his shoulder. "That sounds perfect, John."

oOo

"Your mother is really a very nice lady," Nancy said in a tired voice, opening the door to her room. "I was surprised by her informality, she treated me as a daughter already… I am not used to that, and I must say, it was very pleasant to be treated like that."

"I always told you she was a dear," Laurence replied, stifling a yawn. This day had been unusually long and exhausting.

"Yes, you did, but I couldn't help it, I still imagined her a bit more… stiff. She's a countess, after all… I thought all nobility was horribly formal!" Nancy giggled, taking a candle to light another two. "But your father… well, he did not seem charmed by me, and I expect it's not only because I'm not pretty."

Laurence gently closed the door and stepped to her, taking the candle out of her hands and sandwiching her hands between his. "My father is not charmed by anyone unless that person has the bluest blood, the biggest bank account and the most civilised behaviour. We have different priorities, he and I. I no longer care for money or social status… only a little for civilised behaviour. And if my father does not like you, it is his problem. I do like you, and that is what counts."

Nancy seemed to melt, and slipping her hands out of his, wound her arms around his neck. "This is the most beautiful thing you have ever told me," she whispered with joyfully sparkling eyes.

Laurence felt ashamed, because it was very likely true, and 'I like you' was not exactly the most beautiful thing to say during a courtship. He had praised other women much more eloquently, and yet Nancy seemed content and perfectly happy with as little as she was getting from him.

"Well, I hope that all in all you did not regard our engagement party as a catastrophe," he said, forcing a smile on his face.

"Of course not, silly," she stood on tiptoes to kiss him, more passionately than ever. Laurence found that it was not unpleasant at all, it was much better than any kiss he had received from her so far, and yet, it did not make his blood boil.

"I should be going," he drew back, lifting her right hand to his lips.

"Are you sure you want to?" she asked coyly.

"Yes, Nancy. I want to do everything properly with you. Pray be patient, it is only half a year of waiting."

"_Only_ half a year? That's an awful lot of time…"

"I know… but please, let me be a gentleman."

"Oh, all right," she sighed, "I shall be patient. I love you."

"Good night, dear," Laurence pecked her lightly on the lips and left, feeling his heart sink into his stomach. He knew he should have said 'I love you too', but it would have been a blatant lie. He could not make himself say it, and he could only hope Nancy would forgive him for that.

oOo

"Shall we go for a flight, my dear?" Laurence suggested the following morning, well before breakfast time.

Temeraire had a nasty sense of premonition but he did not want to refuse his captain's wish – they had not had a chance to go for a flight without the crew for several weeks.

As they rose above the white cliffs currently bathed in the rosy hue of dawn, Laurence said what Temeraire had feared he would, "So, why have you given your pavilion to Iskierka?"

"I… I just felt it was very ungentlemanly of me to let her be cold when I could offer her some comfort…"

"Temeraire, a Kazilik can never be cold." Laurence's tone revealed he did not believe a single word of what his dragon had said. "Besides, you have never been gentlemanly with Iskierka before, and she never deserved such treatment either."

The dragon heaved an almighty sigh that nearly had the power of the divine wind. "All right, Laurence… she blackmailed me into giving her the pavilion."

"Blackmailed you?" his captain gasped. "With what?"

"With you and Emily."

"What?"

Temeraire craned his neck to look at his captain. "She heard you and Emily telling each other you loved each other and saw you two kissing. She said she would tell Granby if I did not comply…"

"Oh, my dear…" Laurence patted the dragon's back. "You are suffering because of my carelessness! Please, forgive me!"

"Never mind, dear Laurence… I do not mind much, only I wish her roof was not that leaky…"

"I shall do something about that," the man said seriously. "I know what! I shall buy lots of oilskin and cover it up. It does not offer warmth, but at least it will keep most of the wetness outside."

"I wonder why Granby did not do that while the pavilion belonged to Iskierka…" Temeraire wondered.

"Granby never was a sailor. Probably it never occurred to him."

There was some odd longing in Laurence's voice that Temeraire did not know what to make of. "Do you still… miss the sea?" he asked, anxious about the reply.

"Sometimes. A little," Laurence said. "Like I miss the battles too. I know it might sound very stupid, but…"

"Oh, it does not," the dragon said quickly. "I miss them too! Our life is a little too peaceful these days… I would not mind if something happened to make it more interesting…"

"Me neither," Laurence once again patted Temeraire's neck. "But we must be grateful for peace, my dear. Peace is much better for the country, for its citizens…"

"…only not for us," the dragon finished the sentence. "We are barely getting payment for our services, as they think patrol duty is not very dangerous. But based on how utterly boring it is, I think we should be properly paid. Anyway, pray do not worry about me, Laurence. I can handle Iskierka. I really can."

But Temeraire was proved wrong just a few hours later, when, upon touching down after their daily patrol, Iskierka walked up to him and said, "Dear sir, would you care to join me for tea on this charming afternoon?"

Temeraire's jaw dropped.

oOo

Snow was falling and falling on the covert of Dover, forming a thick carpet on the grounds and the tops of the buildings, the dragon pavilions included.

Temeraire was cold and kept casting anxious glances at the roof of his own pavilion that was half covered with tiles, half with oilskin material. The oilskin Laurence himself had nailed onto the roof with the help of Sipho who had absolutely no difficulty with climbing roofs, or anything for that matter.

A funny crackling sound indicated that something was very wrong above, and Temeraire withdrew from his pavilion just in time as the roof completely gave in under the weight of the metre-thick snow.

With a sour expression, Temeraire examined the wreck, or at least as much as he could see of it in the darkness. Somewhere in the distance something else crackled, but he was sure it was not another collapsing pavilion, it rather sounded like fireworks.

It was New Year's Eve, and people tended to celebrate it, although Temeraire did not fully understand why. He had once asked Laurence about it, and his captain had merely said, 'I do not care for New Year's Eve much, it is no real holiday for me. Christmas is different, it is holy and cosy, but New Year… no.' And in spite of this, Laurence was currently in the dining hall where the aviators were having a New Year's Eve party. Not that he had been too eager about joining the celebrations, but his fiancée had allegedly wanted to go, and he regarded it as his duty to escort her.

"You can come here, if you like," a voice called out to Temeraire in the darkness, coming from the direction of his old pavilion. "This pavilion is big enough for both of us."

Temeraire blinked in surprise. A whole month had gone since Iskierka had got it into her head to act like a real lady, and Temeraire still managed to get surprised by her newer and newer attempts at ladylike behaviour. The invitation to tea had only been the first of many curious and crazy ideas. One day, when Nancy had caught a cold and Laurence had decided to stay inside with her, leaving Temeraire lonely and bored, Iskierka had somehow convinced her own captain to come and read out to her and invited Temeraire for the 'performance'. Granby had proved to be a much less skilful reader than Laurence, and Iskierka had seemed to not even be paying attention to the book, making it obvious for Temeraire that she had only arranged the reading session for his sake.

Another time she had praised his breastplate, claiming that the sapphires in it went perfectly with his dark blue eyes, and when he had absentmindedly replied that her breastplate was really pretty too, she had said, 'Dear sir, your flattery makes me blush', sending him an almost shy glance. This had been the moment when Temeraire had felt he was at the end of his tether and snapped, 'Honestly, I do not understand your behaviour! If you wanted to be a really fine lady, why not give me my pavilion back?'

'I only became a fine lady after I had accepted your gracious offer, sir,' she had replied, curling her red tail around herself with the air of a princess. 'And, as they say, it is not very polite to return a gift.'

'But it was not a gift!' Temeraire had retorted. 'You got it through blackmail, and you know that very well!'

'I am tired,' she had replied, 'pray calm down and sleep.'

Seething with rage, but unable to do anything, Temeraire had then settled back into his new pavilion, wishing that Laurence had been there with him at least. But Laurence had started spending way too much time with Nancy – he had claimed it was the gentlemanly thing to do during courtship and engagement – and Temeraire could not help feeling jealous of the woman, especially since he had known from the beginning that his captain was not even in love with her. Had Laurence spent so much time with Emily, his true love, that Temeraire would have accepted somewhat easier.

Now, after a week of practically not speaking to the annoyingly ladylike Iskierka, Temeraire was truly confused. She had recently refused to give him his old pavilion back, and now she was inviting him there? What for? What was she up to again? For Temeraire was sure that Iskierka was doing it having something in mind. She had never done anything completely selfless…

"Do I have to beg you to come?" she snapped, her ladylike attitude all but disappeared.

"Why would I want to join you in there?" he asked challengingly. "It would be a little cramped, do you not think?"

"In this awful cold a little crampedness would not hurt," she replied.

"'Crampedness' is not even a word," Temeraire shot back.

"Whatever. Will you or will you not come and offer some body heat to a poor, shivering lady?"

"I might… _if _you promise to stop acting like a lady. It does not suit you at all."

"Fine, you big black oaf, come here this instant and warm me up or I'll set your pavilion on fire and get warm by its burning remains!"

"That's more like it," Temeraire sighed, and crossed the distance between the two pavilions with a few beats of his wings, happily cuddling up to Iskierka. Under normal circumstances he would have found her ever-steaming spikes a nuisance, but now the steam issuing from them felt pleasantly warm. As Temeraire bent his head on his foreleg, he felt a warm tail curl around his. It was not at all disagreeable.

He was still confused about this female dragon and annoyed about her perpetual mood swings, but perhaps she was not evil after all. Only proud and a bit silly. And those were forgiveable sins.

oOo

Laurence was not particularly enjoying the party, as he was never one for parties that were mostly about getting yourself blind drunk. He had never been a heavy drinker himself, not even in his days as a sailor and had very rarely crossed the line between tipsiness and drunkenness. As he looked around, he quickly made the assessment that half the hall was staggering already, and it was only ten in the evening.

Nancy, who was surprisingly abstinent for an aviator, asked him to get her a glass of punch while she chatted with Jane. Jane herself had never got drunk, as least Laurence had not seen her like that yet; then again, she was very likely much better at holding her liquor than most men Laurence had ever met.

At the table with the bowls of punch stood Emily and Harcourt, both of them sipping the sweet, pinkish liquid. At the sight of Laurence approaching, Emily stepped aside, letting him serve himself, or Nancy, to be correct.

"Are you drinking punch, Laurence?" Harcourt raised an eyebrow at him amusedly.

"No, it is for Nancy. She does not like alcohol much."

"No fun," Harcourt made a grimace. "If only I could drink something stronger, but no... that horrible doctor forbade me!"

"The doctor? You are not ill, are you?" Laurence asked.

"Nay, just pregnant again," she waved her hand irritably.

"Well, that is good news, is it not?" Laurence ventured.

"Only if it is a girl," came the scathing reply. "I hate to think it could be another boy... Bleh, I hate punch," Catherine put down her glass and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Laurence and Emily alone at the table.

The girl was just about to turn and go as Laurence spoke up, "Emily?"

"Yes?" she stopped in her stride and doubled back, a look of annoyance on her face.

"Emily, I know we have not exchanged a word since... since I told you I was getting engaged, but I hope it does not mean our friendship is over."

"Friendship, William?" she muttered. "What friendship? We never had any. From being comrades in arms we suddenly turned into siblings. There was nothing like friendship between us. Ever."

Laurence was grateful that no one else wanted to drink punch, because it would have been quite unfortunate if someone had overheard Emily talking about their family ties. "Then... can we be friends... in the future?" he asked, his voice ridiculously insecure. "Like, in the new year?"

"Are you expecting me to make a new year's resolution that I shall look at you as a friend from now on?" Emily raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I was hoping..."

"Hey, Laurence, Emily!" Chenery's drunken voice shouted from their left. "Look what's hanging over your heads!"

Gulping, afraid of what he was going to see above his head, Laurence looked up. So did Emily.

"Bugger," she commented.

"Exactly," he agreed, for above them a tiny bunch of mistletoe was tied to one of the rafters; someone must have hung it there before Christmas and the cleaners had obviously not bothered to remove it yet.

"This calls for a kissy-kissy!" Little shouted, puckering his lips for emphasis.

Laurence felt himself flush and his eyes quickly sought out Nancy who had apparently not noticed his awkward situation yet, then Granby, who definitely had but did not seem to mind much.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" Berkley roared with laughter. "Don't break a fine tradition, kids!"

Laurence had not been called a kid for several years, but for the time being he indeed felt like a green teenager about to receive his first kiss. "Emily, I... I am sorry. We must do this or they will never leave us alone," he muttered to her.

"I know," she made a face. "Come on," she stepped closer, "let's get this over with. And make it quick."

"Right," he smoothed his coat, though he could not have explained why, and took a step towards her. "Quick. Fine." He bent down and touched his lips to hers, feather-light, and drew back as fast as he could.

"Is that a kiss for you?" Chenery yelled. "Make it a proper one, if you please!"

"Yes, a proper one!" someone, who Laurence thought to be Fellowes, shouted from the crowd.

In a matter of seconds the whole dining hall was clamouring for a proper kiss and Laurence had to loosen his neckcloth, he felt so warm all of a sudden.

"Don't just stand there and gape," Emily grunted. "Come on. Let's do it or they will really never leave us alone..."

Laurence nodded shakily, this time not looking across the hall to ask for Nancy's permission – she was undoubtedly aware of his situation by now and would not mind if he complied with the wishes of the whole covert. Neither did Emily glance at her fiancé, she just closed the gap between them, and grabbing Laurence's neckcloth, pulled his face down to hers. As their lips met, not quickly and lightly this time, he felt his knees buckle. There was everything in this kiss that his kisses with Jane and Nancy had lacked: passion, love, longing and desperation. This was very likely the last time he got to be this close to Emily, and it was perfectly 'legal', even expected of them, therefore Laurence tried not to feel guilty about it. He knew he could never again tell Emily how much he loved her, so he tried to convey his feelings by putting several months' worth of suppressed emotions into this single kiss.

Emily wound her arms tightly around his neck, her lips demanding him to open his, and in a second Laurence was engulfed in fire. She had never kissed him as deeply as she did now, clinging to him with the same need and desperation he felt, and before he realised what he was doing, his fingers ran through her locks, hopelessly tousling them in the process, drawing her as close to himself as possible until he felt he could no longer bear it and if he continued it a single second longer, a certain body part of his would thoroughly embarrass him in public.

Panting, he drew back, and Emily it took several seconds to open her eyes. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, and he could not help thinking he had never found a woman as angelically innocent, yet so devilishly desirable as he did her now.

Forcing his breathing to slow down, he tore his glance from her, looking at the crowd, only to see hundreds of eyes staring at them unblinkingly. Some of the spectators even had their mouths hanging open.

Laurence had half expected Chenery and some of the others to cheer the extended version of the kiss, yet no one did – the silence was almost deafening.

Laurence's eyes desperately darted to Nancy whose face was pale and her eyebrows knitted, then to Granby who seemed to have frozen in his seat, his dark blue eyes wide with horror.

"Bugger," Emily muttered again, stepping out of a tiny pool of punch – she had apparently spilled her glassful in the fervour of the moment.

"Exactly," Laurence whispered back.

"Bravo," Jane Roland spoke up, clapping her hands. "That was a spectacular performance, thank you both so much! Does anyone else want to try? That mistletoe won't be hanging there forever..."

Jane's comment seemed to have broken the ice – some of the aviators chuckled, and a few couples actually rose and hurried hand in hand towards the table with the bowls of punch. Emily scurried off the spot with glowing cheeks and Laurence too turned to leave, only to remember that he had promised a glass of punch to Nancy. He quickly filled a glass for her, and steeling himself for a possible rebuke, set off for the table where she was sitting next to the admiral, her face still dark as he took a place on her left.

"Here is your punch," he said, aware that his voice sounded ridiculously timid, and knowing that it would not have been this timid, had he not felt this guilty. But he did feel guilty, horribly guilty, like a child caught red-handed.

"Thank you," she said icily, not meeting his eyes.

"Er… shall we perhaps… dance?" he offered, only to say something.

"No, thank you," Nancy replied, examining the pinkish liquid in her glass in the same way Iskierka eyed things before setting them on fire.

Aware that his carelessness had ruined the evening for both himself and Nancy – and very likely for Emily and Granby too – Laurence decided it was time to get drunk. Not too much, just a little bit to feel less embarrassed about it all, but not enough to scandalise Nancy. He had scandalised her just enough already.

"Hey, Laurence," Jane addressed him from Nancy's right, "I've got good news. Wilberforce's letter arrived yesterday. We're meeting in London next week. He, your father and me."

"Excellent," he sighed. He knew he should have felt delighted by the news, but currently nothing could brighten his mood. Perhaps only wine could.

When he was already on his third glass of port, Jane was asked for a dance by Berkley and left, and with her departure heavy silence settled on the table.

"I am sorry, Nancy," Laurence muttered, more to his half-full glass than to her.

"Never mind," she said coldly. "They wanted a show. You gave it to them. Let us forget it."

He sent her a surprised glance. "Can you really forget it… and forgive me?"

"It was just a stupid kiss under a stupid mistletoe. It could have happened to anyone," she shrugged.

"Well… it could happen to us too if you wanted. We have not yet kissed under the mistletoe. Shall we?"

She cast a glance towards the table with the punch bowls – it was still surrounded by snogging couples. "No, thank you. It would be a little crowded."

With a sigh, Laurence reached for the bottle to fill his glass to the brim. Probably it was not a quality wine – it definitely did not dull his senses quickly enough.

o

"Are you listening to me at all?" Emily gently nudged Granby.

"What?" he looked up from his glass, the disorientation caused by the alcohol already clearly visible on his face.

"I was asking you if you wanted to dance," she said scathingly.

"No," he turned back to his glass. "Mr. Port and I are enjoying ourselves perfectly, thank you very much."

"Honestly, John, why are you behaving like a big baby?" she yanked the glass out of his hand.

He gave her the sad look of the heavily drunk and said, "You never kissed _me_ like that."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, John! It was only for the clamouring crowd!"

"Was it?" he said, reaching out and gently but determinedly pulling the glass out of her hand.

Emily let out a groan of frustration and reached for the bottle herself. Apparently there was no other way of surviving the evening.

o

The grandfather clock in the corner struck twelve, and the aviators who were still capable of standing jumped from their seats and cheered, spilling some of their champagne and other liquor in the process. The cleaners would undoubtedly be busy in the morning…

Laurence did not bother to stand – he had no reason to cheer. What would the year 1816 offer him, after all? A chance to watch his best friend marry the only woman he loved? His own wedding to someone he did not love? Endless complaints by Temeraire who was bored to death in this blessed-wretched state of peace?

Well, he decided as his eyes were fixed on his fourth glass of wine, there might be _something _good in this year: if everything went well, in a couple of months Nancy would be expecting their first child, and that would at least be something to live for. But if not… Laurence honestly could not imagine what else he could live for.

Sipping his wine, he thought he was being horribly ungrateful. He had been sentenced to death yet he was alive; he had been exiled yet he lived in his homeland, and naturally, he had Temeraire's and his mother's and Nancy's unconditional love. And still…

He glanced across the hall and his eyes settled upon the huddled form of Emily next to Granby who was snoring on the table, oblivious to the cheering all around him. As he looked more closely, he saw that she was not merely huddled – she was crying.

Had Nancy still been sitting next to him, he would have begged for her pardon now, but she had left with some of her crewmates – Jane included – to hold a little open-air celebration for Excidium. Laurence would have gladly left the party too to join Temeraire, but he knew Nancy would sooner or later return, and she would undoubtedly be disappointed to see he was missing.

With Nancy not around, however, Laurence felt a little less guilty and a little less embarrassed as he crossed the hall on wobbly legs and flopped down next to Emily. "Hey, you okay?" he gently tapped her on the shoulder.

She looked up, half-dried tears streaking her cheeks, but she was no longer crying. She seemed quite disoriented, though, as if she had no idea where she was and what she was doing.

Suddenly her vision cleared somewhat. "Oh, Will, you're here!" she yelped, throwing her arms around his neck. "Save me, please, Will! They're coming for me!"

"Who?" he blinked, looking around and only seeing staggering aviators who were not dangerous at all unless they tripped and toppled others.

"I don't know! But they're after me!" Emily wailed, clinging to him like her life depended on it. "Save me, Will, I'm so afraid!"

"Emily… you're drunk. You're seein' things that don't exist," Laurence replied, his tongue proving to be a little difficult to move.

"You're drunk tooooo!" she abruptly laughed out. "You're so cute like this! You should get drunk more often, Will! Come, let's dance! I want to dance all night!" With that she jumped from her seat, toppling over the unfortunate chair. Opening her arms and closing her eyes, she began circling around. Laurence quickly hopped up and nearly fell – he was drunk enough for his legs to be unstable – and caught her, drawing her to himself. "Come, Emily… sit back down before you crash into someone!"

"No, nooo, Will, I don't want to sit! I want to dance and I want to kiss you again!" she chuckled, her earlier fears of unknown people following her apparently long forgotten.

"John! John, wake up and take her up to her room!" Laurence shouted at Granby who slept on, a little pool of saliva gathering under his chin on the table surface.

"No, nooo, I waaaant toooo staaay!" Emily sang, tightening her grip on Laurence's neck.

"What on earth have you drunk?" Laurence shook his head in disbelief. It seemed to be more than just wine, and as he looked around, he realised that not only Emily was behaving this curiously. Little was dancing cuddled up to Chenery, and Sipho was shouting at the top of his lungs, 'Lions! Run from the lions!'

"I'd venture it is that funny powder from China," Harcourt's stoic voice said from Laurence's left.

"What?"

"Of course, you were not here at Gong Su's wedding in August," she carried on. "He gave us something that is allegedly widely used in China to enhance tea and mild stuff like that… but when Chenery poured it into wine, it had quite an unexpected effect."

"Wiiiill, I want to fly! Without a dragon! I have wings myself!" Emily giggled into the lapel of his coat.

"People went crazy?" Laurence guessed, his mind getting hazier and hazier by the moment.

"Yes. When Gong Su saw this, he hid the remainder of his stocks, but… who knows? Some of the boys might have found it," Catherine replied.

"So we've drunk spiked wine," Laurence muttered. "Just great. I'll take Emily to her room. Be back soon." He knew he was not talking like normal, but his thoughts were sluggish and his tongue was getting stiffer and stiffer by the second. "Come on, Emily…"

"Oh, Will, where are we goin'? To the moon? I want to fly there, fly with me!"

Casting a final glance at the slumbering Granby and wanting to smack him for choosing to get blind drunk at a crisis like this, Laurence pushed Emily out the door.

"Yikes, it's cold out here!" she wailed, "where's my coat? I'm coooold, Will! Warm me up!"

Holding her as close to himself as possible, Laurence stumbled forward. The Chinese powder – whatever it was – was beginning to affect his brains too, ensnaring his senses more and more with every step. He just had to hold out until they reached Emily's room. Then he would go out to Temeraire – the dragon's closeness combined with the bitter cold would surely sober him up.

"Hold me tighter," Emily said as they stumbled up the stairs together, her voice no longer whiny or giggly, rather husky. _Husky?_ Laurence swallowed hard as she wound her arms tighter around his waist. Her closeness was just as intoxicating as the spiked wine they had drunk, perhaps even more.

"J-just… a few more steps, Emily," he stammered as they reached the corridor her room was situated on. "Come, come little sister… one foot before the other…"

"Don't treat me like a baby, I can walk!" she snapped, but her next step proved so wobbly that they nearly lost balance and Laurence only managed to save themselves from falling by pressing her against the wall just outside her door.

"You okay?" he panted.

"No…" Her mouth curled downwards into a pout and her great silver eyes filled with tears again. Apparently she had just returned from her emotional high to her emotional low-point and buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing.

"Shhh, it's okay…" he patted her shoulder gently with one hand and caressed the top of her head with the other.

"No, it's not okay, Will!" she cried. "I've done something horri… horrible!"

"What, dear?" he whispered, instinctively pressing a kiss on her temple. He did not even think of the possible consequences if someone happened to see them here, hugging so intimately... Then again, his brains were too clouded to think clearly.

"I've… I've killed your child!"

"What?" Laurence blinked, unable to comprehend her words.

"I've told Mother horrible things, and she miscarried because of meeee!" Emily hid her face in her palms, sobs raking her body worse than ever. "She's forgiven me, but you… you surely won't, never! You surely hate me so muuuuch!"

"Emily… you're drunk and drugged and… you don't know what you're talkin' about!" Laurence mumbled, opening the door for her. "Come, dear, let's get you into bed…"

"Into bed?" she lifted her head, her tearful eyes blazing with something that would have scared Laurence had he been sober. But in his drunken state he only found it exciting. Shamefully exciting.

"Er…"

"Bed…" she muttered, pulling him with her into the room and slamming the door shut. "Yes. That's what I want. Bed. With you."

"Emily, I…" But he could not finish the sentence, for she pressed her lips to his, just as fervently as a few hours earlier under the mistletoe, rekindling the same fire in him that he had extinguished in the dining hall through sheer will power. Currently his will felt weak, suppressed and just as confused as he himself was.

"Em… we mustn't…" was all he managed to utter, but as he heard something rip – which turned out to be his coat – all his resolve flew out the window.

Something at the back of his mind said in a shy little voice that he was about to do something wrong, something terribly, unforgivably wrong, but the greater part of his mind was muddled enough to not care for it.

A tiny hand slipped into his breeches, squeezing him at just the right place, and Laurence forgot everything – forgot that he was engaged to Nancy, that Emily was engaged to Granby, and most importantly: that he and Emily were brother and sister.

oOo

**A/N: well, evil enough? ;)**** Don't hesitate to tell me your opinion – be it good or bad – just make sure you refrain from flaming.**


	10. Guilt

**A/N: thanks to **_**LittleHogwartsGirl, Polyarny, Nimbus Llewelyn**_** and **_**Anna Scathach **_**for reviewing the previous chapter.**

**In case you're wondering: no, I haven't yet read Tongues of Serpents. I might not get my copy before September. :( But I've read a few reviews that said it was a little slow, however, I was glad to hear that Emily was shaping up to be a strong character. *wriggles eyebrows***

**Now, on with this fanfic, that is very AU now. ;)**

**Chapter 10**

**Guilt**

The early morning sun shone mercilessly through the window, coaxing Laurence back from dreamland to reality. As soon as he opened his eyes, he regretted it, for the strong light gave him such a headache as though a pair of Regal Coppers were step dancing on his skull. Wincing, he looked away from the source of the tormenting light, only to regret that too, as this time his eyes fell upon the peacefully slumbering form of Emily Roland. Right next to him. Under the same covers. In the same bed.

His heart missed a beat and for a long moment he forgot to breathe; he just stared at her, wide-eyed. Probably he was just imagining it all…

He looked away, forcing himself to turn his face back towards the sunlight. The act of craning his neck gave him a doubled headache, but a headache of such magnitude was at least confirmation that he was awake. Which meant that finding himself in bed with Emily was not a dream – perhaps only a nightmare. A living nightmare.

Swallowing hard, Laurence glanced back at her, his mind desperately searching for the memories of the events that had led here. Slowly and gently, not to shake the mattress too much, he rose to his elbow and looked around, hoping that the surroundings might trigger something and prove that it was all just a misunderstanding. But as he moved, the covers slipped a little lower and he was forced to realise that despite it being January, he was not wearing a thing. He had a horrible suspicion that Emily was not either, but he did not feel brave enough to lift her side of the covers to make certain. Besides, their surroundings presented just enough proof for him to be sure that she was just as naked as him: all around the bed various articles of clothing were lying on the floor – here a rumpled shirt, there a slightly torn coat, and hanging askew on the back of a chair, female underwear.

At the sight of the havoc they had apparently wreaked on the room, somewhere at the back of his mind Laurence heard echoes of memories. The ripping sound as his coat was torn off him, the husky female chuckle as he nearly fell upon kicking off his boots, the plaintive squeak of the bedsprings as they both tumbled into the sheets, a shocked yelp issuing from Emily's mouth as he had roughly taken her, followed by gasps and moans from both of them…

"O God…" he muttered, hiding his face in his palms. "What have we done?"

In a matter of seconds his headache was joined by nausea, and he was sure it had not only come from his hangover, but also from the thought that he had committed the greatest sin in his whole life: he had bedded his own sister.

He chanced a glance towards her, and his heart quenched. She slept so peacefully, a tiny smile on her lips made her the most angelic vision he had ever seen, but he was cruelly reminded that the previous night she had behaved like anything but an angel. His memories were still hazy and he had no doubt that they would never be fully clear as the alcohol and the drugs had managed to steal a great portion of them, but the flashes of memory he retained were passionate, rude and dirty. Not like he had imagined the first night with a beloved woman would be like.

He tried to reason with himself that it was all the fault of the spiked wine, but he knew he would only be lying to himself if he accepted his own reasoning. He had wanted this for a long, long time, and so had she, only they had pushed their needs for each other to the back of their minds, knowing their lust to be a hideous sin; and the spiked wine had only been an agent of breaking down the walls of their inhibitions. It was mostly their fault, not that of the alcohol or the 'Chinese powder'…

Laurence had only once before felt this horrible in his entire life: upon realising that his treason had resulted in the near annihilation of his beloved homeland. But it still had been different – he had betrayed his country thinking it was the lesser of two evils. His conscience had been more or less clear then. Now, it was not. He felt dirty – sullied by a love that should have been pure and innocent. Emily deserved to be loved by him as a sister and only be touched by John Granby, no one else…

At this, as if a lightning had struck him, Laurence realised that he had done exactly what he had so detested in his father: he had cheated on the woman to whom he had vowed fidelity. True, he was not yet married to Nancy, but engagement in his eyes was nearly as binding as marriage.

After this, he no longer had a right to think ill of his father. He was not a tad better. No, he was worse, much worse; after all, Lord Allendale had merely cheated on his wife with a pretty stranger. _He_ had cheated on his fiancée with his own little sister. And could there be a sin greater than incest?

Tearing his eyes from Emily's contently smiling visage, Laurence pulled the covers off himself and slid off the bed, trying to do it as carefully as possible, so as not to wake her. He knew he could not face her now. Not yet, not like this.

He was probably the biggest coward on Earth if he left the room with her still asleep, but he could not imagine what he would tell her or hear from her if he did not leave now. He needed some time to come to terms with it all… to get fully sober, and to spend some time alone. He needed to think, but currently he was not sure if he could think clearly at all.

Hastily but with shaking limbs, Laurence donned his clothes, and seeing Emily sleep on peacefully, he began gathering her clothes too, and folding them, laid them one by one on the chair. He had wreaked just enough havoc in both Emily's heart and his own; he did not want to leave the room looking like it had been exposed to the divine wind.

Finally he bent to adjust the bedcovers, and that was when he spotted the brownish claret stain of dried blood on the sheets. His heart sank. Apparently Granby had not touched her yet. He had been her first, and he had been anything but careful; alcohol and passion had clouded his mind too much to be a gentleman.

"Forgive me, Emily," he muttered, heading for the door – practically fleeing now – and stepping outside. As he closed it behind him, he felt his knees buckle, and for a moment he had to lean against the door to gather enough strength to walk on. "O Lord," he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, "forgive me. Forgive us…" But he knew that any prayer was in vain. He had crossed the line, irrevocably. For him, there was no salvation.

oOo

The soft click of the closing door roused Emily from her sleep. She opened her eyes, squinted in the blinding sunshine, and immediately knew that something was amiss. The first unpleasantness was the headache combined with nausea. She had not felt this bad since her mother had given her her first cigar at the age of ten. Back then she had thought her mother had been absolutely cool to not forbid her something like this, even show her how to light the cigar and suck it properly, but years later she realised it had been merely a means of scaring her off smoking. And it had been a successful attempt on her mother's part, for Emily's first experience with the cigar had been a nightmare. It had made her think her head was about to split along with her lungs, and all her breakfast had come back, leaving her with an upset stomach for the rest of the day.

In retrospect, her first – and so far last – cigar had not been that awful at all. The nausea and the headache were about the same now, but instead of in her lungs, she felt pain quite a bit lower this time.

She sat up, only to regret it, for at this movement not only the room began dancing around her, but the soreness she had felt 'lower', increased tenfold. "What the hell…?" she muttered, but just as soon as she had uttered these words, she remembered. Someone had spiked their drinks the previous night, exactly like at Gong Su's wedding... She had been aware of that as soon as she had begun hallucinating, but it had been too late to do anything other than surrender to the effects of the mysterious Chinese powder. And then Laurence had come along, trying to get her back to her room, and...

Frozen, she stared at the neatly folded dress she had worn the previous night lying on the chair and her shoes right beneath it. Her room had never been this tidy.

Emily felt violated. Everything in here bore the touch of Laurence's hands: her dress, her shoes, her pieces of furniture, and most importantly: she, herself.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to blink them back in vain – they quickly found their way down her cheeks.

She felt silly for crying. After all, she had wanted him. She had wanted him for years, even after she had learned about them being siblings… and still, this was not how she had wanted it to happen. Not drunk, not drugged… she had wanted it to be done out of their free will, from both their free will, not only hers!

Emily was sure he would never have taken her with a clear mind, not without the spiked wine. Realising what they had done must have been the dirtiest, most horrible thing in his eyes. And that is why he had left. He had not wanted to talk to her, to even lay his eyes on her again… he was surely disgusted by her now, but she… she did not feel anything of the sort. She only felt longing, a desperate need for him, and would have willingly accepted him into her body again, even despite the aches she was experiencing. Yes, she did feel violated, but not by Laurence, but by the wine and the drugs that had robbed him of his free will and turned their first ever lovemaking into something abominable. Not that it had been unpleasant – as far as she could remember, she had cried out with pleasure several times –, but still, it had been just rough, mindless sex. No romance, no gentleness, no soft kisses. And now nothing remained of if but soreness and pangs of remorse.

What Emily felt most guilty about was not even the fact that she had made love to – no, had sex with – her brother, but the fact that she did not feel guilty enough – neither about the incest itself, nor about having been unfaithful to John. Sometimes the lack of guilt could result in another sort of guilt, she realised.

Pulling up her legs, bending her chin on them and squeezing her eyes shut, Emily wept on, not caring for the fact that it was winter, that her room was cold and she was as naked as the day she had been born.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open in horror. "Good Lord above," she breathed, realising what time of the month it was for her. "No… please, just not that…"

oOo

As if he had not had his fair share of shocking experiences for one morning, as he entered his own room, Laurence was faced with none other than Nancy Collins sitting on his bed, looking tired but too upset to let herself fall asleep. The scene strangely reminded him of another, half a year earlier, when Emily had waited for him to return to his room, looking just as tired and upset as Nancy did now. But at least Emily's face back then had not radiated disgust like Nancy's did now.

"At last," she said with a cutting edge to her voice. "I thought you'd never wake up in little Miss Roland's arms…"

Laurence felt all the blood run out of his face. "Na… Nancy… how do you…?"

"Easy," she rose from the bed, her features as rigid as though they had been a mask carved of ice, but in her eyes he saw fire. "When I returned to the dining hall and saw you were missing, I asked Catherine where you had gone, and she said that you had escorted a very drunk Emily Roland to her room because her fiancé could not. How gallant of you, I thought, and decided to surprise you by following you and meeting you halfway on the corridor as you returned from her room. I thought you might perhaps wish for a few private moments with me, to tell each other our New Year's wishes, or something… How damn foolishly sentimental of me, isn't it?" She let out a bitter little laugh. "And guess what? I did not meet you on my way to her room, and as I reached there, I heard quite unmistakable noises from inside." She made a very unladylike snort. "I have to give it to her, Emily Roland has a spectacular vocabulary, but I never thought you did too."

Laurence felt completely annihilated. "Nancy, I… we… we were drunk. And drugged. I know this is no excuse for what happened…"

"You are right. This is no excuse," she said icily. "Perhaps I would accept it as an excuse, had you been willing to bed me at least once, but no, you had said you wanted to be a gentleman! A fucking gentleman, Laurence!" she stabbed her index finger at his chest, and he realised she had not called him William, although she had not addressed him otherwise since the proposal. "I was obviously not pretty enough for you, but I accepted that you only wanted to shag me once we were married, because I thought you had at least an ounce of honour! But no, you went and shagged Emilywithout a second thought! I know she's much prettier than I could ever hope to be, but still, damn you, Laurence!" Now there were tears brimming her eyes, and he wanted to say something, anything, but his vocal cords failed him miserably.

"Had you been truly honourable," she carried on vehemently, "I would have accepted the fact that the only part you desired of me was my womb to carry your child. Yes, I would have accepted it, hoping you might learn to love me later, but now…" he voice trailed off, "I have no hopes anymore. You have abused my trust, and not only mine, but Captain Granby's as well, and I thought he was your best friend."

Laurence swallowed hard. All her remarks had struck home like well-aimed daggers, but this last one had twisted the imaginary dagger in his heart. "But you will not… you surely will not…?"

"Tell him?" she offered. "No. It would only break his heart. I do not want _their_ engagement to fall apart either. Yes," she paused for a moment, seeing Laurence's cheeks turn even paler, "I'm through with you, blond prince, but I'm going to be tactful and wait a few days before I tell others the engagement is over. I don't want anyone to make the connection between you kissing Emily senseless at the party and me breaking up with you. If anyone asks me, I shall tell them I realised it would not work between us. Tactful enough?"

He gulped and did not reply.

"Well, I think it is very tactful. Loads more tactful than what you deserve, and loads more tactful than you were when you cheated on me! You are free now, you don't have to put up with an ugly duckling like me and pretend you like me when you surely _never_ did! Go, fuck the Rolands as that's what you apparently _always_ did!" With that she pulled the engagement ring off her finger, pushed it into Laurence's hand and marched for the door. She halted in the doorframe and looked back at him over her shoulder. "I almost forgot. Happy New Year!"

With that, she banged the door shut behind her.

For several minutes Laurence stood at the middle of the room, gazing at the door through which his only chance for a decent family life had just escaped. He felt the whole world had collapsed around him, and he was standing on a heap of ruins, his heart brimming with guilt over the destruction he himself had brought about.

Staying in Britain was a very wrong decision, he saw that now. In the selfish hopes of starting a new life, a perhaps happier life than he deserved, he had destroyed everyone else's he cared for. Emily's, Jane's, Nancy's, John's… maybe only Temeraire was an exception.

Laurence bit into his lower lip and blinked back a tear. He had no right to cry, not for himself, at least. He could only pity others he had ruined, but not himself. He deserved no compassion, none at all, therefore he knew he could not show to the world how wretched he felt. But could he keep it from Temeraire as well? He was not sure of that. The thought of Temeraire, however, kindled a tiny spark of hope in his heart. Even if he had to shut himself off from every romantic or friendly relationship in the future so as not to hurt the ones he loved even more, Temeraire's love and devotion would always be his. He was not completely alone.

He washed his face and exchanged his torn coat for a decent one, then headed down to his dragon. He badly needed some comfort, and he would not allow anyone else to try to give it to him. Only Temeraire.

oOo

Emily had barely finished dressing when there was a knock on the door. She shuddered, fearing it to be Laurence. She was not yet ready to face him. Perhaps she would never be ready for that.

Her eyes quickly scanned the room to make sure there were no telltale signs of what had taken place here the previous night, and seeing that nothing could reveal that something was wrong, perhaps only the shakiness of her voice, she called, "Enter!"

It was Granby who stood in the doorframe, looking pale, probably a bit nauseous, and very, very tired.

Emily's heart sank into her stomach. What if he had somehow found out? What if he had come to break up their engagement and to call her a whore – which title she felt she truly deserved?

"Jo… John…" she muttered, forcing herself not to shake too badly as he entered and closed the door behind him.

"Emily…" he heaved an almighty sigh and stepped even closer. "Oh, Emily, I am so sorry… can you forgive me?"

"What?" her eyebrows shot up. "What should I forgive you?"

He ran a hand across his already unruly dark locks. "I acted like a complete idiot last night. I was jealous when I had absolutely no reason to… and I got drunk and wasn't there when you needed me… I am so very ashamed, Emily! Apparently some people of my crew took me to my bed, but I don't even remember that! I have never knocked myself out like I did last night, and for that, there is no excuse." He cast his eyes down, looking like a lost and guilty little boy.

Emily's heart quenched thinking that it was him apologising to her when it should be her asking for his forgiveness, as she had sinned against him much, much more terribly than he had against her. And just to think he regarded his jealousy of last night unfounded and foolish… Emily felt like dying of shame on the spot.

"Are you… not saying anything?" he asked shyly, apparently thinking that she was not replying because she could not forgive him. But the truth was that she could not forgive herself. Although a few minutes ago she had not felt as guilty as she was supposed to, now, after having listened to her fiancé's apology, she did.

Emily lifted her head to look him in the eye, and for a fleeting second she felt like telling him everything and beseech him not to hate her, but she found she had no courage for that. John Granby was her only hope for an honest life, a life without further sin, and she could not let him get repelled by what she had done and leave her. Because she was almost completely sure he would leave her if she confessed the truth. Perhaps he would forgive her, but he would not want to marry her anymore, and she badly needed him as a husband and possibly… as a father to a child she might have conceived last night.

At this idea, she shuddered again. How could she convince Granby that a child conceived on New Year's Eve was his, when they would not sleep together till the second half of April, till their wedding night? And just to think what kind of an ill, retarded offspring she might have from her own brother…

Emily felt like retreating into a corner, curling into a ball and crying. But she could not afford such luxury. And maybe she did not even deserve it, she did not deserve the relief that crying would offer. She had to suffer without showing anyone that she did. This was her punishment.

"John, let's get married! As soon as possible!" she blurted out, throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. She could not face him, she could no longer look him in the eye and pretend she was hugging him out of love… She was doing it out of desperation. And she detested herself for it. She had never thought she would sink so low… to deceive an honest man and use him for her own vile ends… But could love, true love, ever be considered 'vile ends'?

Granby pulled back a bit, joy glinting in his eyes. "Oh, Emily, dearest! You aren't mad at me!" He passionately pressed his lips to hers, and they felt like those of a stranger; she enjoyed their touch even less than ever before. She felt downright grateful when the kiss ended. But she could not let him suspect that.

Running a finger down the side of his face and up again, she wondered if she would ever enjoy his kisses, if she would ever crave his touch… but she already knew the answer. She would never desire anyone else but Laurence.

As her fingers lingered on his brow, she knitted her eyebrows. "John, you are burning up. Are you sick?"

"It's nothing," he shook his head. "It must be due to last night's drinking…"

Emily was not in the least sure he was right, but she did not want to argue. "So, are you fine with a wedding held earlier?"

"How much earlier?"

"I wouldn't mind marrying you right tomorrow," she smiled, knowing that her smile must be awfully forced.

"But dearest, this requires quite a bit of arrangement… besides, I want my mother and siblings to be there. It cannot be sooner than the end of February."

Her mind reeled. The end of February! That means almost two months! She would need to lie to John that 'their' child was two months early when it was born, she calculated in thought, feeling even more miserable than before upon realising that she could call herself 'calculating' in both senses of the word. Emily had never been the calculating type, she had loathed people who were like that, and now she was no better than them. This single night with Laurence had corrupted her, both in body and soul, forced her to fabricate lies and live the rest of her life in shame, despising herself…

For the second time that morning she felt like telling John everything, but something still held her back, and she realised she was not only keeping her secret for herself. No, she was doing it mostly not for herself, but for Laurence whose honour had been tainted just enough – she knew his reputation could not take another blow, and if this ever came to light, he would be a dead man in everyone's eyes –, and she also did it for the child they might have created the previous night. If by a strange mercy of God it was not retarded, it had to have a chance to grow up in an honest family, and only Granby as its father could provide that.

Emily's lips tucked into a bitter smile. Had she just thought 'mercy of God'? What mercy? Had God truly been merciful, He would not have let her fall in love with her own brother! No, God was merciless, she decided. And thus she would never gain absolution. Her sin was too great and too hideous for that.

"Fine," she replied, "the end of February, then." She knew it would be risky to try to make Granby believe that the child was his – _if _there was a child at all –, but she still had a much better chance if they got married in two months' time, than if they waited till April.

"Great," Granby grinned. "Oh, Emily, I am so happy everything turned out all right, after all! I swear I will never get blind drunk again!" He once again pulled her into a hug, and she felt his body tremble.

"John, you are shivering. You are ill, please, go and see the covert physician!"

"It's nothing, really," he waved in dismissal. "Let us go and have breakfast, shall we?"

Emily swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. She was not sure she would be able to eat anything, not to mention that she might meet Laurence in the dining hall.

"Right," she forced herself to smile. "Let's go."

Slipping her arm into Granby's and clinging to him as though she expected his closeness to protect her from the cruelty of the world, she walked down to the dining hall, where, to her utter relief, there was no sign of her brother at all. She hoped it would remain like that: that he would keep clear of her path in the future, or if he would not, then she definitely would keep clear of his.

Her heart ached at the thought of having to be cold and unfriendly towards him, but there was no other way. Even if she still craved him in body and soul, her common sense overruled all emotion. She belonged to John Granby now, and William Laurence could not exist for her any more.

oOo

When Laurence approached Temeraire that morning, he found him in Iskierka's new pavilion – Temeraire's old one – but with Iskierka nowhere in sight. Even more curious was the fact that Temeraire was fast asleep while he was always wide awake by eight in the morning, especially on days of duty.

The man gently patted the dragon's foreleg, and Temeraire stirred. "Oh, good morning, Laurence! And Happy New Year!"

There was some inexplicable joy radiating from Temeraire's dark blue eyes and he looked overall smug for some reason.

"Happy New Year to you too, my dear," Laurence forced a smile on his face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, I… did not sleep much," Temeraire said, with some shyness in his voice that was in sharp contrast with the smugness on his features. As his captain arched an eyebrow at him, he must have felt encouraged to continue, for he leaned closer to Laurence and lowered his voice as much as a Celestial could. "Laurence, imagine… Iskierka and I mated last night!"

"Did you?" Laurence swallowed hard.

"Yes! And she let _me _instigate it, and it was so very wonderful, Laurence! It was romantic… and gentle… have you ever imagined Iskierka could be gentle? Well, I have not, but she can, and she was! Laurence… I think I am in love!"

The captain's jaw dropped. "Well… that is… excellent, my dear, but… is it not a bit… sudden? Last time you talked about her, you said she was horribly annoying…"

"Well, she was, but deep down I think I always fancied her," Temeraire said delightedly. "And guess what? She said she is almost completely certain I have given her an egg! That is why she left, to have breakfast early, a double breakfast, because a mother-to-be has to eat for two! I went back to sleep a bit because I only need one cow, but she insisted she needed two. I only hope she will not get fat… Speaking of which, why are you not having breakfast yourself? Is it not breakfast time for the aviators too?"

Laurence did not reply at once – he stood frozen, but not from the cold and the snow he had sunk in knee-high, but from the horrible realisation that last night not only Temeraire and Iskierka might have produced an egg, but he and Emily too.

"Laurence, are you all right?"

The captain shuddered and looked up, Temeraire's earlier question finally reaching his mind. "Oh, yes. I was not hungry, so I skipped breakfast. I thought we could go for a flight before patrol begins. What do you think?"

"Well…" Temeraire fidgeted, looking slightly uncomfortable, "I must admit I am a little tired now. As I said, we did not sleep much last night… What about a flight tomorrow morning? I will try to rest a bit after today's patrol and sleep through the night. Besides, I would like to be here when Iskierka returns from breakfast… I hope you do not mind."

"No," Laurence sent his dragon a sad smile. "I am glad for you, Temeraire. I hope you two are going to be very happy."

The dragon cocked his head, raising his ruff and examining his captain with a curious and worried expression. "Laurence, what happened? You look troubled."

"I… it is nothing, my dear," the man said, finding that he could not reveal his secret, no matter how much he had wished to. He had longed to share it with Temeraire and no one else, to receive some comfort, some consolation, but now, having heard about his dragon's romantic escapades, he realised he could not say a word about what had happened between Emily and himself. It would only ruin Temeraire's mood, besides, compared to his sinful affair, Temeraire and Iskierka's relationship seemed pure and holy, even if dragon mating habits were usually considered 'animalistic' by most people. Animalistic or not, it was no sin for the dragons, but having sex with your half-sister definitely was for a human.

"It is _not_ nothing, Laurence," Temeraire shook his head. "Something is bothering you, I can see it. What is it? Can I help somehow?"

"Oh, my dear," Laurence sighed, pressing himself to the dragon's muzzle. How he longed to tell Temeraire the truth! But he could not. For the first time in his life he felt he could not be sincere with Temeraire. And it hurt. He knew, however, that the dragon was still waiting for a reply, and he could not bring himself to lie to Temeraire. He had to tell the truth – or at least, part of it. "Nancy broke up with me," he said. "There will be no wedding… and no future captain for you. I am sorry, my dear."

The dragon's eyes widened. "But Laurence… why? Does she no longer love you?"

"She just… realised it was not going to work between us," Laurence hung his head. "She… she realised I loved Emily."

"Oh," Temeraire breathed. "I am so very sorry, Laurence. And not even for my future captain who might never be, but for you, you alone." He gently nudged the man with his muzzle. "Pray do not be sad, dear Laurence. You might find another girl who loves you and whom you can love too."

The captain shook his head with a wistful smile. "I fear I am not that optimistic, my dear. I will never love anyone as much as I love Emily. Never."

oOo

The first day of the new year went by and Laurence did not see Emily for a single second – not after patrol, not even during dinner, and he could not decide if he should feel relieved or concerned instead. He was afraid of meeting her, talking to her, but he knew that they would eventually have to talk about what had happened between them. Laurence especially dreaded one particular question he needed to ask in connection with the calendar and her cycle.

He did not see Granby at dinner either, and drew the conclusion that he and Emily were very likely spending some private time together, or perhaps they were just avoiding _his_ company. The latter would have meant, however, that Emily had told her fiancé the truth, which necessarily would have resulted in the loss of a good friend. Then again, knowing Granby and his fiery temper, he would probably have come barging through Laurence's door and breaking his nose if he were truly aware of having been cuckolded.

As if Laurence had not had enough to worry about, by the evening it had turned out that his first lieutenant, Allen, who had missed the New Year's Eve party due to some mild cold, had something much more serious than just a mild cold: he had scarlet fever. The illness was mostly contracted by children, but if caught by adults, it tended to have much more dire consequences than in the case of a child. The covert's physician immediately forbade everyone who had not yet had scarlet fever to enter Allen's room. He also sought out Laurence as Sipho's captain and Demane's current captain, Berkley, to tell them to keep the boys as far from Allen as possible, as their African immune systems had developed differently than those of the Europeans and should they contract the illness, they would very likely react to it worse than anyone else.

The following day Emily appeared for breakfast, but only briefly, and when she spotted Laurence, she looked away, pretending his presence had not affected her in any way. Granby did not turn up for breakfast, nor for lunch or dinner, and by the evening the news had caught Laurence's ears: his best friend had scarlet fever too. There were apparently three of the youngsters in the covert suffering from the same illness, but the doctor was not overly concerned about them – children usually got over it within a week or two – but he did look concerned about the adults.

"Emily," Laurence caught up with the girl that evening after dinner.

"Yes?" she doubled back on the corridor. The iciness of her voice froze him inside. "What do you want?"

"Emily... I... you... er, how is John doing?"

"Not well. But why haven't you visited him? Have you not had scarlet fever yet?"

"No, I had it when I was five," Laurence admitted reluctantly. "I am protected against it... but are you too?"

"Yes, I had it too, so I am not afraid of visiting him. But apparently _you_ are," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Laurence cast his eyes down, as if examining his boots. "Yes. I must admit... I am. Does he know...?"

"No. I did not have the heart to tell him. But I expect Nancy knows."

"How do you know she does?" he looked up from his boots.

"She isn't wearing her engagement ring anymore."

Laurence frowned. "So... she hasn't started spreading the news yet that we broke up?"

Emily shrugged. "I haven't heard a thing of it yet. And if you do not mind, I am going to visit my fiancé now."

With that she turned on her heels and left, not giving him a chance to ask what was truly worrying him, or even to express how utterly sorry he was, about everything.

o

The 3rd of January found Temeraire in a foul mood, and Laurence could easily guess why: Iskierka was so very worried about her captain's health that she became practically insufferable, and Temeraire was having a very hard time trying to console her. But at least he tried.

Laurence knew well that he should try to offer some friendly – and only friendly – comfort to Emily who was apparently very worried about her fiancé's condition, but he did not feel brave enough to approach her again, not after that short and cold conversation they had had the previous day.

Days went by, and Laurence still did not screw up the courage to talk to Emily, and Iskierka got more and more unbearable, upsetting even the tolerant Temeraire. She refused to go patrolling under Emily's command, then again, Emily herself barely left Granby's bedside, so she could not have commanded Iskierka anyway.

On the 6th January Jane returned from her quick visit to London and the first thing she did was to invite Laurence to her office to tell him about her achievements in the capital. "It went surprisingly well," she said cheerfully, motioning him to sit down. "Your father was quite civil and Wilberforce is a dear, he promised to help me to get a chance to talk before the Lords. I cannot wait to see the faces of those stiff-necked nobles as I address them, wearing my admiral uniform!" she let out a throaty laugh. "Honestly, I would not mind if it got to be common knowledge that females are present in the Corps, it's high time for this male chauvinist society to learn that we, women can fight just like men and that we deserve equal treatment!"

Laurence nodded, and although he agreed with Jane, he did not want to mention that most people very likely would not. He was surprised how far he had come in only eleven years: when he had first spotted Catherine Harcourt by the table at Loch Laggan and found out she was a woman, he had been shocked. He had been equally shocked when 'Roland' had turned out to be Emily's family name, not her Christian one. And now he could not help but agree that women, or at least aviators who indeed fought for their home country, should be granted the same rights as men.

"I am glad it went well," he said, trying to smile a bit, "and I am glad my father treated you civilly. Did he still not appear to… recognise you?"

"No," Jane shook her head, "but I no longer care. Either he is a brilliant actor or he has completely forgotten that night. I wouldn't blame him for forgetting, it was nearly twenty-two years ago, after all... We talked a bit about you, by the way. He seems to have accepted your engagement to Nancy."

"Well, that…" Laurence cleared his throat and shifted uneasily in the chair before her desk. "It is... well... over."

"Over?" Jane's eyebrows jumped high. "Can't you do anything without screwing it up, Laurence? I have had such high hopes for this match!"

He felt his cheeks burn. 'Screwing up' was not the perfect term for it, but she had got the 'screwing' part just right.

"Sorry, that was perhaps a bit unfair of me," Jane sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Of course you have done lots of things well... mostly in duty, but you tend to screw up things in your private life." She carried on in a much more business-like tone, "Honestly, what have I missed this time?"

"Not much, as the others only found out about the break-up yesterday, and Nancy did not tell them much," Laurence shrugged, "only that she realised it was not working between us."

"Not working?" she snorted. "Are you sure it was not because of that kiss under the mistletoe?"

Laurence stared at his hands folded in his lap. "Only partly. But you are right… it led her to realise that I could never feel for her like I do… for Emily."

"Oh, your poor fellow," Jane breathed, her eyes radiating true compassion. "Love is bitch. I am so fortunate it never crossed my path!"

"Yes, Jane. I think you are indeed fortunate," he nodded. "Well, if you do not mind, I would like to withdraw and rest a bit now. It is getting late."

"Rest? I was hoping you would be up for some exercise in bed," she said with a lopsided smile, "now that you are free again…" When he did not reply just stared at her with a confused expression, she heaved a sigh. "A little too early to suggest something like that, eh? Sorry, Laurence. Perhaps later."

"No, Jane," he shook his head. He was not sure if he could touch another woman after Emily, ever again. "I fear I am not capable of that. Not anymore. Please, do not get me wrong, I appreciate you in every respect, your friendship means a lot to me, but… I am not going to cross that line again."

"Right," she exhaled. "I think I can accept that. You are too precious a friend to lose over something as petty and pathetic as sex. Go and rest, dear fellow, I am sure you need it, you look quite wretched."

"Thanks," he presented her with a slightly sarcastic smile. "By the way, you might not have heard yet, as you have just returned… Besides Allen and the three youngsters, Granby has scarlet fever too. I think Emily might need some maternal support in these hard times."

"Christ, not that too!" Jane threw up her hands in defeat. "All right. I shall see what I can do for her. And now, off to bed with you!"

oOo

Emily spent most of her time by Granby's bedside, reading out loud to him, talking to him about any silly little thing she could think of, or just changing the wet towels on his forehead. She occasionally visited Iskierka to report to her about their captain's condition, but spending time with the annoyed and annoying Kazilik was not enjoyable in the least, so she always hurried back to her fiancé as soon as she could.

As she watched Granby toss and turn and moan in fever, oblivious to his surroundings, Emily tried to reason with herself that she was devoting all her attention to him out of love, but deep down she knew she was only trying to deceive herself: she was doing it out of guilt.

The door creaked and her mother entered. "Emily," she said, "you should get some sleep. He will not get any better if you get ill too."

"Why would I get ill?" the girl asked, her voice tired and hollow. "I had scarlet fever once, I cannot get it again."

"You know that is now what I meant," Jane stepped to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are making yourself ill by not resting and barely eating..."

"How do you know I'm not resting and not eating? You've just returned from London, right? How did things go there, by the way?"

"Emily, pray do not try to change the subject," Jane said with a gentle chiding in her voice. "But for your information, everything went well in London, and I shall tell you about it in detail once you have rested. As for your other question, I asked a nurse I met outside. She said you hadn't left Granby's bedside for days. You are killing yourself in the process, and I'm not letting you do that."

"I'm not killing myself, and John needs me!" Emily snapped, but she was so very tired that the would-be-snappish reply came out of her throat quiet and timid. She knew she was fighting a losing battle against her mother, against her own will, but most importantly, against her conscience. In the past five days she had tried everything to help her fiancé, hoping it would offer a means for her to repent, but she found it was not helping at all. She watched as the only man who could possibly save her from a life of sin was withering away, and she felt completely powerless.

"What happened to you, Emily?" her mother asked, and her grip on the girl's shoulder tightened slightly.

"What do you mean?" Emily muttered absent-mindedly. "I am only worried about John."

Jane Roland shook her head. "I know you too well, Daughter. There is something else. Does it have anything to do with Laurence?"

The blood froze in Emily's veins. "No," she said quickly. "I have nothing to do with him. I _may not _have anything to do with him! You know that!"

"Yes. I do," her mother said, "but you still sound oddly hysterical when you talk about him..."

Emily swallowed hard. "Mother, please... drop it. There is nothing about Laurence." How she hated having to lie to her own mother! But she could not be honest. Jane Roland was very open-minded, but_ this _not even she would overlook. Fornication was one thing. Fornication with your brother was another.

There was a knock on the door, and the physician entered. "Admiral Roland, Lieutenant Roland, can you please make room for me so that I can check up on the patient?"

Emily rose from the bedside, still not meeting her mother's eyes, although she felt Jane's searching glance upon herself. Her mother was a very perceptive woman. Was she suspecting something?

_God,_ Emily prayed, _let her not suspect it!_

oOo

After a healthy dose of wine Laurence finally felt encouraged enough to approach Emily. He was sure the wine he had just consumed was not spiked, as it did not dim his senses, only made him a little bolder than usual.

He had heard that all the wine from the New Year's Eve party had been poured away and the culprits – Dunne and Hackley – had been caught. Their current captain, Captain St. Germain, had immediately demoted them from lieutenants to ensigns, and Laurence did not like to imagine the dressing-down they were about to receive from Jane. Or perhaps quite the contrary: he would have liked to be a little fly on the wall of Jane's office and listen in…

He shook his head in disgust. He knew it was only the wine working in him, giving him such ridiculous ideas. He also knew he should not be feeling content by Dunne and Hackley's punishment, not even if those two deserved to be demoted for endangering people's health in such a stupidly careless fashion. Although Laurence mostly blamed himself for having slept with Emily, he could not help blaming his one-time officers as well. Dunne and Hackley had given him just enough trouble in Istanbul, and apparently they had not learned from their mistakes. And yet, Laurence could not help thinking that those two were not nearly as great sinners as he himself was.

Taking one more swig of wine, Laurence left his room, and headed for Emily's. He was not nearly drunk enough for anything inappropriate to happen between them, but he felt he was tipsy enough to voice his feelings without inhibitions. And he was sure that was what he needed now: complete honesty.

As soon as he turned into the corridor where her room was, he spotted her approaching from the other end of the corridor, and he drew the conclusion that she had been visiting Granby again.

She too spotted him from a distance and halted for a moment, hesitant, then drew herself up, put her chin out, and marched towards him – or only towards her room? – with deliberate, manly steps. Laurence admitted that he found this kind of defiance highly alluring. Then he immediately chastised himself. He must not think of her as alluring! It is forbidden!

In half a minute she reached her door and gave him a blank stare. "Laurence. What are you doing here?" Her voice was wavering, and he had the impression that she was fighting an inner battle with her emotions.

"Are you not calling me William anymore?" he ventured.

"William was my lover and my brother," she said in a low voice. "You are neither any longer. I don't want to have anything to do with you." With that she turned away and marched into her room, but before she could slam the door shut, Laurence found himself pushing against it, not letting her close it in his face.

"Who gave you permission to barge into my room like that?" she snapped as soon as he closed the door behind him. "Only because we spent one goddamn night together, you are _not_ entitled to enter here whenever you please!"

"Emily, that's not what I…" he stepped closer.

"For your information, you reek of alcohol," she made a disgusted grimace and took a step backwards. "I'm not having drunkards in my room, not anymore!"

"Emily, please, just listen to me, then I shall go…"

"Go right now! I don't want you here! Get out of my room, and out of my life! Leave me the hell alone, Laurence!" she stomped her foot, and the so far contained emotions broke their dam, flooding out in the form of tears.

Laurence knew that it would only worsen things if he left now, so he did the only thing he found sensible: he crossed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. For several seconds she fought him, trying to break free, but he was much stronger and held her tightly although careful not to hurt her. After a minute she gave up the struggle and surrendered to his brotherly hug, sobbing into his shoulder and shaking from head to toe.

"Shhh… it's okay," he muttered into her hair.

"Okay?" she whimpered, her face still buried into his shoulder. "No, Will… nothing is okay, and never will be! Never!"

"Emily… pray calm down," he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. "There is nothing that cannot get better somehow. I am sure it will be okay for you. You will marry John and forget me, like it was always supposed to be."

"If only," she grunted and pulled out of his embrace. "I nearly managed to convince him to get married sooner, but…"

"Sooner?" he blinked.

"Yes," she looked away with a grimace and wiped her tears. "For your information, our timing was very, very bad, and it might have consequences. God save us if it does…"

Laurence hung his head. She had answered his question before he could have asked it.

As if capable of reading his thoughts, Emily suddenly looked up, her eyes boring deeply into his. "You have no idea how much I hated myself when I asked John to hurry up with the wedding…"

"I can imagine…"

"No, you can't!" she snapped. "I had to lie to him because of you! But hell, I did not want my child to be born out of wedlock!"

"So… there is a chance…?"

"Quite a big chance, yes," she replied darkly.

"O Christ, no," Laurence muttered.

"Too late to whine," Emily snarled. "Only time will tell if it happened or not."

"I understand," he nodded dejectedly. "You said… you _nearly _convinced John to get married earlier? Did he refuse?"

"No," she shook her head and sniffed. "He agreed, only… that will never happen now."

"Why not?"

Fresh tears ran down Emily's cheeks as she said, "John is dying."

**o**

**A/N: grace me with some reviews, please! *puppy eyes***


	11. To Boney, With Love

**A/N: Thanks a lot to L**_**ittleHogwartsGirl, Polyarny, Anna Scathach**_** and **_**Radishgirl36 **_**for reviewing the previous chapter. Your continued support means a lot to me. :)**

**Chapter 11**

**To Boney, With Love**

It was near midnight, and Laurence was close to being as drunk as he had intended to be upon parting with Emily in the evening.

Things could not possibly have been darker than they were, he thought with a tiny, still workable part of his mind. Granby was dying, Emily was possibly expecting his child – a child conceived out of the worst kind of sin possible between siblings –, and he had not even had a chance to tell her his true feelings about the night they had spent together. All in all his whole life was a freaking mess.

He hiccoughed, spilling some of the wine on the table. He put the glass down and propped his chin on his palms, absent-mindedly gazing at the liquor, feeling that his head was so heavy it would fall if not propped properly. The wine in the glass was red, like the blood on Emily's sheets, red, like Granby's face must be due to the scarlet fever...

Laurence's eyelids drooped, and for a second he thought he saw Emily's sad eyes staring at him from the depth of the glass, only to be replaced by Granby's even sadder face. 'You have betrayed me,' Granby said, 'as you have betrayed everyone. Not only your country, but your friends as well... how can you live with such shame?'

How indeed? Laurence buried his face into his palms, forcing himself not to look at the glass anymore. He was not yet drunk enough to not be able to tell reality from hallucination, and he knew that Emily and Granby's images had only been evil tricks his mind was playing on him. Evil tricks born out of drunkenness and guilt.

Laurence knew he would never truly forgive himself for what he had done, but he could not let hallucinations created by guilt drive him crazy. He might not be useful for anything or for anyone, but Temeraire still needed him. Temeraire needed a more or less healthy captain, not a lunatic, and if he continued on this path – the path of self-accusation and never-ceasing regret –, he would eventually lose his mind.

With an angry swish, he knocked the half-full glass off the table, and the crash as it broke on the floor made him come to his senses, at least a bit. He stood up, and with wobbly legs walked to the basin, pouring the whole content of the pitcher on his head. This method had worked back in June, it worked now too, only it felt loads colder this time.

Shaking from head to toe, Laurence dried his hair as much as he could in a towel, then donned his coat, and with still slightly staggering steps, left his room.

He did not know how he got to the other end of the barracks building, but somehow he still did, and with a shaky hand, knocked on the door. A nurse opened it, hiding a yawn. "What're you doin' here so late, sir?" she asked reproachfully.

"I have... come to see... my friend," Laurence muttered, forcing his tongue to move properly despite the amount of alcohol he had consumed. "Could you please... give us a few minutes alone?"

The nurse sent him, especially his wet hair a suspicious look, then shrugged. "All righ'. It's not like you could do anythin' bad to that poor fellow... he won't survive another day anyway..."

Laurence's throat constricted at these cruel words. "Thank you."

The nurse left with a candle in hand. "I'll go to the kitchen for tea. Be quick, sir."

"I shall."

Laurence entered and closed the door behind him with a soft click. Granby stirred at the noise but did not awaken, only moaned a bit in his sleep.

With a sigh, Laurence sank onto the chair the nurse had just vacated – it was still warm from her body heat. Granby's hand, however, was not only warm, it was practically burning as he touched it.

"O God, John," he muttered, "you cannot give up like that! You hear me? You cannot! You must live... for Emily, for Iskierka... for everyone! For me too... you are my best friend in the world... I do not want to lose you. Although... if you knew... what I had done, I would have lost you already."

He ran a hand nervously across his wet locks. "Christ, this is so hard... but I have to tell you, John... I cannot bear the thought of not... not telling you the truth. I know you cannot hear me, but... however stupid it may sound, I think... I would feel a little relieved if I told you. John... I lied to you about Emily. I lied when I said I did not love her. I do. More than... more than you could ever imagine... but my love for her is forbidden... pray do not ask me why..." he let out a small, sarcastic laugh. As if Granby could ask _anything_ in given circumstances... "I love her, John, but I cannot give her what she needs... a proper family, an honest life... only you can. So you cannot die! You just cannot!"

He felt tears brimming his eyes, and he could not decide if they were due to his drunken state – after all, the drunk tended to cry without a reason – or to something else entirely. "John... I must confess... something else. Something... in connection with my love for Emily. That night... at the New Year's Eve party... when I kissed her under that stupid mistletoe... well, it was not... not just because everyone wanted a show. I enjoyed every second of it, and so did she... and we went further that night... after we had both drunk some of the spiked wine. John... I slept with her. I slept with your fiancée. We cheated on you and on Nancy... and Nancy knows, that's why she broke up with me... you had to know too. I had to be honest with you. And I do not expect you to ever forgive me... but..."

Laurence's voice trailed off, and he sniffed, thinking how utterly pathetic it all was: despite Granby dying, he still could not reveal the truth about his and Emily's blood relation. No, the secret of him bedding his own sister he had to take to the grave with himself.

"John... I am so, so sorry. Pray do not blame Emily... blame me, or blame the wine, but mostly me... I should have said no, but I was unable to... it is all my fault! I sullied this pure and innocent creature... and there is something else." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Emily... Emily told me she might be pregnant. John, I cannot marry her! You must! Please, do not let her down! Stay alive, marry her, and if there truly is a child... be a good father to it! I beg you, John! Hold out, for Emily! If you truly love her... you have to hold out!" He no longer tried to reason with himself that his tears were coming out of drunkenness. No, he sobbed freely, his whole body shaking in the process, his hand once again clutching at Granby's wrist. "Please... I shall request to be placed somewhere else with Temeraire... so that I would not disturb you and Emily... just wake up... just heal. O God, save my friend!"

There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for a reply, the nurse entered, sipping a steaming cup of tea. "Visiting time is over," she said casually, but as Laurence lifted his head and she caught a glimpse of his tear-soaked face and his hand resting on Granby's, her eyebrows jumped high.

"I am leaving," Laurence rose from the chair, and only when he was outside and the cool air of the corridor made him shiver, did he realise what those arched eyebrows had meant: the nurse must have thought there was something more than just friendship between him and the invalid. His cheeks burned despite the cold, thinking that from one point of view, the nurse had been right: he did not only consider John as his friend, but also as his and Emily's saviour. And if Granby died, Laurence knew his whole world would collapse. Granby was their only chance: Emily's for the start of a new life and his for ever gaining salvation.

"Please, Lord," he muttered, leaning against the cold corridor wall, "do not let him die."

oOo

Emily dreaded entering her fiancé's room the following morning. She dreaded the news that would await her there, dreaded to see a white sheet covering his still form from head to toe... and most of all, dreaded to think what would become of her without him.

With her heart throbbing in her throat and her stomach constricting painfully, she knocked lightly and entered.

The first thing she saw was that Granby's body was lying on the bed, but it was not covered with a sheet. She did not see his face, as the physician and the nurse were bending above him. Were they perhaps just making certain he was dead?

She took a tentative step towards the bed, and the covert's physician moved aside with a smiling face. "Oh, Miss Roland, our patient has been enquiring after you."

"Enquiring after me?" Emily breathed, and took another step forward. The nurse moved a bit too, and she finally saw her fiancé's face – a face still ruddy with fever, but out of that sickly face a pair of tired eyes glinted at her. There was something odd and cold in his stare, as though he were seeing her for the first time, then his lips tucked into a tiny smile, and his whole face lit up. "Emily..." his lips formed, and although barely any sound came out, it made her let out a tiny squeak of delight and run to him, pulling him into a tight embrace and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Miss Roland, pray do not exhaust the patient, he needs to rest," the doctor said, but it was Granby who replied in a weak, raspy voice, "It's okay, doc. She only helps me heal."

"Could you... could you please leave us alone?" Emily muttered as she pulled back from his embrace.

"Only for five minutes," the physician said, "then I will need to examine him more thoroughly. It is a wonder he lives at all! A true miracle!"

"Was I doing... really that bad?" Granby asked as the door closed behind the doctor and the nurse.

"Yes, John," Emily nodded, taking both his hands into hers. "We thought we were going to lose you... Oh, John, this really is a miracle!" She cried and smiled at the same time, feeling shamefully relieved. "John... you've got to heal quickly. Iskierka has been crazy with worry these few days you were sick, and so have I..."

He sent her a tired smile. "Then please go and tell her that it seems I am staying alive, after all..."

She nodded and rose from his bedside.

"Oh, and Emily... I think it's time to start arranging our February wedding."

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes – tears of gratitude. Gratitude towards God for being merciful, and gratitude towards John for holding out and loving her enough to marry her. At the same time she felt shame wash over her. She was still deceiving this wonderful man! She still loved another, and she was possibly expecting that other man's child... But this was too much of a happy moment to dwell on her guilt and her fears of the future. She wanted to be happy at least for a short while. Happy and hopeful.

"Then heal quickly, dearest, so that we can get down to arranging it." Bending to kiss her fiancé lightly on the lips, she headed for the door. She had some good news to share with Iskierka.

oOo

Iskierka had once again awoken grouchily and kept complaining that having to worry about her Granby was harmful for her egg and that she could not even eat properly due to nerves, which was even more harmful for the egg.

"But you cannot even be sure there _is_ an egg," Temeraire said irritably.

"But I am!" she snapped.

"Then simply do not worry that much," he suggested.

"Would you not worry if _your_ captain was so very sick?" she countered, reaching out for one half of a dead cow he had brought for her. "Whawouldya feelif Laur'nce had this sca'let fever thing?" she said with her mouth full.

"Firstly, it is not ladylike to talk with your mouth full, secondly, I would naturally be very worried about Laurence, but I would not vent my frustration on my friends like you do!"

"I do not vent my frustration on others!" Iskierka replied in a hurt tone.

"Yes, you do. Besides... I _do_ worry about Laurence. He is not sick, at least, not physically, but that break-up with Nancy has left its mark on him. He is suffering inside, I know that... and I cannot help him, which is frustrating me, but I still will not make others miserable only because I am."

"Hmph," she commented, reaching for the other half of the cow.

"I see you are not that very worried if you can eat again," he said with slight sarcasm.

"You are wrong, I am worried. Very, very much," she replied, chewing on a leg bone. "So, what's up with Laurence? I thought he never even loved Nancy, so why would he be so sad over the break-up?"

Temeraire hung his head. "Honestly, I do not know. I think... there might be more than just that... but he refuses to tell me. I have a feeling that for the first time in my life, my captain is hiding something from me."

"Well, let us ask Emily, perhaps she knows more," Iskierka pointed with the leg bone at the girl hurrying towards them. "And I seriously hope it is _not _something about her and your captain again!"

Emily was quite out of breath as she came to a halt before the pavilion that Temeraire and Iskierka were sharing. "Iski... Iskierka," she panted, "imagine, Granby's woken up! He's feeling better!"

"Oh, at last!" the Kazilik roared with delight. "We must celebrate this! Go, get me another cow, Temeraire!"

"Why do you not go for one yourself?" he said testily.

"Why would I? I am a pregnant female who has to be taken good care of," she replied haughtily.

At the word 'pregnant' Emily's face tucked into a grimace which did not escape Temeraire's attention.

"Like I would let you command me around for months before you lay the egg!" he grunted.

"Why, would you not?" Iskierka asked in as ladylike a tone as she could muster.

"Of course not! You would only get lazy and fat and I would not find you pretty anymore."

"Oh, did you hear that, Emily? That means he does find me pretty now!" Iskierka said excitedly. "All right, I am off for another cow!"

"At last, peace and quiet," Temeraire sighed once his girlfriend was out of ear-shot. "Do not get me wrong, Emily, I do love her, but she annoys the living daylight out of me."

The girl let out a small chuckle. "I can understand that. Well then, I should be off too."

"Wait, please. Let us use the opportunity that Iskierka is not here, and let us talk about Laurence."

Emily's good mood seemed to have disappeared in a second. "Why would you want to talk about Laurence, and why with me of all people?"

"Emily," Temeraire sighed, "pray do not take me for a fool. I know exactly how you two feel for each other."

"No," the girl's lips trembled. "You have no idea."

"Well, I do have _some _idea, even if I do not know everything," the dragon admitted. "I have a feeling that Laurence is hiding something from me. Something that is making him very, very sad. He said it was the break-up with Nancy, but I do not believe that. I am sure it is something to do with you, only I do not exactly know what, other than the fact that he loves you. But he loved you months, perhaps even years ago, and he never was as depressed as he is now. Emily... what happened?"

She bit into her lower lip and tears welled up in her eyes. "Temeraire... please don't ask... we may not talk about that. It is..."

"Forbidden?" the dragon guessed.

"Yes," she hung her head, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

"Oh... did you two mate, by any chance?"

"Temeraire, shhh!" Emily's eyes widened with fear, and she cast a quick glance around.

"Do not worry, no one is around to hear us..."

"Walls have ears."

"These walls surely do not," Temeraire nudged a slightly shabby wall of his pavilion with the end of his tail.

"It is just a saying," Emily threw up her hands in frustration. "The point is that you must keep silent."

Temeraire's eyes widened as well. "Does that mean that you and he... truly...? Wow. Was it nice?"

"Temeraire!" she snapped, scandalised, wiping her tears on the sleeves of her coat. When the dragon only gave her an innocent and curious look, she heaved a sigh. "Yes, of course it was. I mean... it could have been nicer, had we not been totally drunk, but... if we had not been drunk, it would not have happened at all..."

"...which would be a pity, would it not?" Temeraire finished the sentence.

Emily shook her head. "This wasn't supposed to happen, Temeraire."

"Wait," he said as something occurred to him. "You looked odd when Iskierka mentioned her pregnancy. Does that mean that you are too...?"

"Oh, I don't know, Temeraire... but I could be."

The dragon felt a wave of excitement wash over him. Then he was probably getting a future captain, after all! But wait… if Laurence and Emily were siblings in secret and their love had to be kept a secret, then obviously they could not openly offer their egg to be Temeraire's future captain… could they? "Will you tell Granby if you are having an egg?" he asked, worried about the answer.

"No. Yes. I mean... yes, I will tell him, but only after we got married."

"Wait!" Temeraire breathed. "You mean, you are going to tell him that my captain's egg is his, and give that egg to Iskierka as her future captain, instead of to me, as _my_ future captain?"

Emily paled. "Temeraire... you must understand... this must be like this, because no one may ever find out what happened between Will and me! It was a mistake, a stupid, unfortunate mistake, and we must repent for it, even through giving up on the chance of bringing up our child together!"

Temeraire flattened his ruff to his neck. "That sounds awful. Laurence would like to have a child so much..."

"I know..." Emily sniffed, "but even if it is awful, it is the least we deserve. Temeraire, please... try to understand my predicament, and keep this a secret! Not even Laurence may know that you have guessed it all!"

"But why not? I would love to tell him how pleased I am that you two managed to mate at least once..."

"Temeraire, you still do not understand a thing!" she groaned. "It was a mistake. A pleasurable mistake, but a mistake still. And an unforgivable sin too. I know these things must be hard to comprehend with your draconic mind that works so very differently when it comes to mating and having eggs, so I beg you to simply accept it as I have said, and do not ask further questions! Please, just... keep silent about it! Before everyone! And there are no exceptions. Absolutely none. Not Iskierka, not John, not my mother, not even Laurence, no one!"

Temeraire nodded. "All right, no need to get so worked up. I can keep my mouth shut if I want to. See, there is Laurence coming, and I will pretend I do not know anything."

Emily shuddered and looked in the direction of the barracks. Laurence was still just a tiny pinprick in the distance, at least, a tiny pinprick for human eyes, but for a dragon, it was easy to spot him and recognise him.

"But before he gets here," Temeraire lowered his head and his voice, "let me clear just one thing. So to say, let me summarise it all. I know it is forbidden for brothers and sisters to mate, but you two still did. Does that mean that the reason for his unusual sadness is that he has pangs of remorse?"

"Yes, Temeraire. I am so glad you have finally understood it."

Temeraire contemplated what he had heard. Pangs of remorse were definitely not pleasant. He could perfectly understand Laurence's depression now. "And you too have those pangs of remorse, I presume?" he asked Emily.

"Yes," she muttered, casting her eyes down. "But let us drop the subject, he is getting too close... I do not want him to overhear us. And I should go anyway."

"No, I think not. That would look too suspicious if you left upon spotting him, would it not?" Temeraire offered.

"Yes... perhaps."

"Right. So, what do you think of today's weather, Emily?" the dragon raised his voice so that everyone in a two-mile circle would hear it, Laurence included.

"Oh, I don't know... it is a little chilly, don't you think?"

In a couple of minutes Laurence arrived at the pavilion, and Temeraire was shocked to see his face pale and his eyes blood-shot, as though he had not slept a wink.

"Emily," Laurence bent his head slightly. "What brings you here?"

"I have just come to tell Iskierka the good news. John is doing better."

The captain seemed to have lost his balance, and had to lean against a pillar of the pavilion. Closing his eyes, he muttered, "Thank you, dear Lord..."

"Well, I have to go now," Emily said. "I am sure the doctor has finished examining John by now. I should be by his side, where I belong." Giving Laurence a meaningful glance, she marched off.

Temeraire's heart sank upon seeing the look of longing and despair that spread on his captain's face as he stared after Emily.

"I think... it is very unfair that you two cannot be together," the dragon voiced his opinion. "If it was done by that God you tend to talk to... well then, tell him for me that I am quite dissatisfied with his actions."

Sending Temeraire a wistful smile, Laurence replied, "I cannot do that. He has just proven that He is fair and merciful. And I can never be grateful enough for that."

Deciding that he would never understand human religion, Temeraire bent his head on his foreleg. "Are we going for patrolling today? I am so, so very bored! I nearly wish we had to fight in a war again!"

"Temeraire, please... you cannot wish for a war," his captain said chidingly.

"Fine, no war then... just a little bit of excitement! That is not that much to wish for is it?"

oOo

That evening Laurence decided to skip dinner. He waited for Emily to enter the dining hall, then hurried down the corridor towards Granby's room, feeling a bit like a thief about to steal.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and with every step he took towards his friend's room, he got more and more afraid of how Granby would react to his visit, but he knew there was no way he could avoid this encounter. He had cast the dice last night, and there was no way to make it undone.

He had to talk to John now that he was awake, to see if he had understood and remembered anything of what Laurence had told him while he had been seemingly unconscious. And the sooner the better.

Laurence knew that the more he delayed this conversation, the more he would chicken out, so it was the best to get it over with. If Granby had managed to comprehend anything of his confession, it was better if he kicked Laurence out of his room and his life now. There was no pointing in waiting. Waiting would only make things worse.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Laurence knocked on the door, and was soon faced with the same nurse he had met the previous night. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks, knowing what the nurse thought of his inclinations.

"May I... talk to him?" he asked, his voice sounding ridiculously jittery.

"Alone, I presume?" the nurse said with a sarcastic edge. "Of course, Captain Laurence. Just don't wear the patient out."

Giving him a half-mocking, half-amused glance, she left the room, and Laurence entered, his heart beating so frantically that he wondered if Granby too could hear it. This moment would decide everything: the future of their friendship or the end thereof, and possibly Emily's future too. Although, he thought, had Granby heard his confession last night and had he been mad at them for having cheated on him, he would probably have broken up with Emily by now, and then she would not have looked as happy and carefree as Laurence had seen her just a few minutes ago.

He seriously hoped he had not ruined Emily's chances at happiness with Granby through his confession, but if his confession had anything to do with Granby's staying alive, then perhaps a ruined relationship was not that great a price to pay for it. But, he reminded himself, _he_ had no right to pass judgement – only Granby did.

"Hello, John," he said, taking a step towards the bed.

Granby stared at him for a long moment, his eyes searching, then his lips tucked into a little smile. "Hello, Laurence."

This was definitely not the smile of someone he had just lost as a friend. It was the smile of someone who was still his friend. Suppressing a sigh of relief, Laurence walked even closer. "How are you doing?"

"A bit better, thanks. Emily is taking good care of me."

"I am so glad to hear that," Laurence said sincerely. "She is good for you, John."

Something flashed in Granby's eyes, but only for a second, and Laurence wondered if that flash had been there at all or he had merely imagined it.

"I am very lucky to have someone like her, aren't I?" the patient went on, smiling, his smile like an invisible hand clutching at Laurence's stomach. Laurence was not sure if he had ever been this ashamed... but he could not and would not repeat what he had said last night. For that he had only once had enough strength.

"Yes, John. You are. Love her and make her happy. But first of all, heal quickly."

"I shall, my friend," Granby said, his glance once again a little cryptic. Laurence did not know what to make of these odd glances, but perhaps they were only due to the illness, or maybe they did not even exist, only his guilty mind had created them.

Upon entering the room he had been hoping beyond hope he had not lost John as a friend. Now he was not sure if it had not been better to lose Granby's friendship than to live with the knowledge that Granby still regarded him as his best friend, while he knew that he did not in the least deserve it.

oOo

"You wanted to see me, Mother?" Emily said upon entering Admiral Roland's office.

"Yes, my dear," Jane nodded, and rose from her seat behind the desk, motioning Emily to sit down at the small round table that served for friendlier conversations. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Wine? Something stronger, perhaps?"

"Mother," the girl crossed her arms, "what exactly do you want?"

"Am I that transparent?" Jane laughed, sitting down opposite her daughter. "Well then, no beating around the bush. Three days have passed since Granby woke up, and you have barely left his bedside as though he was still seriously ill."

"Mother," the young woman groaned, "it is not like I'm not sleeping or eating anymore, I am doing both just fine, thank you very much."

"I am glad to hear that, but… I cannot help thinking you are sacrificing yourself for him… and for what reason? I cannot even imagine."

"Mother, if you are still insinuating it's about Laurence, then save your breath…"

Jane held up a hand. "Whatever it is, I do not want to know. Especially because I am sure I would not like it if I happened to find out. I will not pry, Emily, your private life is your own… but I am still your mother and I love you. I hate to watch you wither away in a relationship you have practically fled into… one that you wouldn't have chosen under different circumstances."

"Mother, please…"

"Just answer me one thing, Emily. Do you really, really want to marry John Granby?"

For a long moment, the girl chewed her lower lip. "I have no other choice."

"Are you pregnant?"

"No!" Emily shook her head, knowing that she must have reacted a little too suddenly and a little too vehemently. "I just… want to marry him. That is all. Please accept that."

"If this is all about building a wall between Laurence and yourself," Jane carried on, "then let me tell you something. He visited me yesterday and requested to be placed into another covert. I am seriously giving thoughts to obliging him. He asked to be moved to any other covert as long as it is in Britain. I assume he does not want to be too far away from his family. Anyway, once he is reassigned, you will not meet him very often. You do not need to get married just to keep him at an arm's length."

Emily did not know whether she should feel relieved or dejected by the news of Laurence's imminent departure. She only knew that she was still getting married to Granby, with or without Laurence around. Granby loved her, and it would be the worst kind of ungratefulness to break up with him only because the direct danger of sinning with Laurence was over.

"Thank you for your concern, Mother, but I will be perfectly happy with John," she said, forcing her voice not to waver. "Besides…"

There was a knock on the door, and without even waiting for an answer, Captain James barged in. "Excuse me, Admiral, but this seems to be urgent," he pushed a rolled up parchment into her hands.

Jane opened the letter, skimmed it, and Emily was surprised, almost frightened to see her mother's face blanch.

"All captains and first lieutenants in my office, at once!" she said. "Emily, go tell everyone you can, James, you too, spread the news that I want all of them here in an hour! Those who are out patrolling must be called back in an instant!"

Both Captain James and Lieutenant Roland saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

oOo

By the time Laurence arrived at the admiral's office, it was nearly full. He and his crew had been out patrolling until Volatilus had appeared out of nowhere and told them to return to the covert and appear in Jane Roland's office as soon as possible.

Despite it being January, the room was already warm and stuffy with all those people crammed inside.

Laurence had almost been the last one to arrive, only Harcourt arrived slightly later, looking overly pale which he put down to her new pregnancy. At this thought his eyes darted to Emily who was standing closer to her mother's desk, facing away from him. She did not notice him, or pretended not to.

"Well, I think everyone is here with the exception of the sick Captain Granby," Admiral Roland spoke up. "Right?"

"My first lieutenant, Allen is missing too," Laurence said.

"Ah, yes, the other patient with scarlet fever," Jane nodded. "I expect no one else is missing who should be here?" She looked around, her face rigid and determined. "Well, then, ladies and gentlemen, I have received shocking news. Our spies have reported that Napoleon had managed to take certain precautions in case he lost another battle and was banished for the second time. Perhaps some of you remember his albino Celestial, Lien? Apparently he had managed to breed her with a Grand Chevalier."

Laurence stiffened and an excited murmur ran down the room.

"Yes," Jane made a grimace, "old Boney is still giving us trouble. Would you have imagined that his hands could reach here all the way from St. Helena?"

"But what happened with the egg?" Berkley interjected.

"The egg was naturally hidden… and recently it has been put on a ship," the admiral explained. "A British merchantman called the _Lucinda_, bound for St. Helena. One hundred and twenty-two feet length of hull, thirty-six guns. Not big, but one of the quickest British merchantmen. I expect her captain must have received an astronomical sum for delivering Napoleon the egg."

"Hah," Chenery laughed out, "can you imagine that? An enormous egg tied with a red ribbon and a message attached, '_To Boney, With Love'_."

"It is not funny, Chenery!" Admiral Roland snapped. "Not that one single dragon could push the whole of Europe back into war, but Napoleon must not be underestimated. He is well guarded on St. Helena, but only by two or three light-weights. Should he receive this dragon, a dragon of possibly the largest size _and_ in possession of the divine wind, it _will_ mean a threat. Riding such a dragon, he could easily escape from the island, and get in touch with his followers from a little hidey-hole whose location we are sadly unaware of. I am sure he has planned it all. Never forget that we are facing the greatest strategist of our time."

"Do you expect us to fly after the ship and seize the egg?" Little wondered.

"According to the report, the _Lucinda_ put in at Brest on the 2nd January and spent only a few hours in port. That was when the egg was transported on board. By now that ship must be somewhere around the northern coast of Spain, I think, but I am not the sailor here. Laurence, are my estimates right?"

"I believe so," he nodded.

"Good. What we need is a quick dragon, but definitely not a courier or even a flock of couriers. We need a big one to successfully terrify those on board. A quick and large dragon." Jane sent Laurence a meaningful look.

"Temeraire can do it," he said. "He crossed the whole of Asia in barely over two months. Naturally he will need to put down a few times for supplies…"

"Plymouth first," the admiral nodded. "Brest or Nantes thereafter. The French will not cause you any trouble, our relationship with the Bourbons is amicable enough. Then you may try Bilbao or La Coruna, then some port in Portugal. After that, however…"

"Madeira," Laurence said. "But I am hopeful of catching that ship before she reaches Madeira. If we leave in an hour or two, we have a good chance. However, let me remind you that I am currently two officers short. My first lieutenant is still recovering from scarlet fever, and my second lieutenant left for his father's funeral just two days ago. He is not likely to be back any time soon… I would not mind promoting my midwingman Sipho to lieutenant, but he is too young to be a first officer."

"Well, then, you will need a temporary first officer," Jane said. "Anyone who can lend Captain Laurence an experienced lieutenant?" she looked around expectantly.

"I shall go," Emily spoke up.

The blood froze in Laurence's veins.

"You, Lieutenant Roland?" Jane asked, looking slightly surprised.

"Yes, why not? John is doing much better, and I am of no use here with Iskierka unwilling to fly without her captain. I have served under Captain Laurence long enough, I am sure we will do just fine together… unless he disagrees?" Emily sent her brother a challenging look which made his heart sink into his stomach. He honestly could not figure out this woman: one day she is cold and hostile and does everything in her power to avoid him, the other day she insists on going with him on a possibly dangerous mission…

That was when something occurred to him that made him freeze even more. "Er… Admiral Roland… would you mind if I had a word with Lieutenant Roland outside? It will take a minute only."

With a slightly puzzled face, Jane motioned them to proceed.

As the door closed behind them, Laurence rounded on Emily. "Have you lost your mind?" he whispered. "This mission can be very dangerous, and you might be… you might be…"

"…with child?" she snorted. "For your information, I started bleeding yesterday. I'm not pregnant."

For a long moment Laurence stared at her, processing her words, then he felt his legs go weak and had to lean against the wall. "Oh, thank heaven…"

"So, will you take me along now?" she asked, her voice louder and almost peremptory.

"Are you sure you would not rather stay with John?"

"Do you know what my mother asked me right before she got the message about this dratted egg?" she once again lowered her voice. "She asked me if I truly wanted to marry John. And for a second my determination wavered. She also told me you requested to be placed elsewhere, and I realised I might never see you again… and it hurts. It hurts like hell, William."

"Emily…"

"I'm not finished," she carried on vehemently, but still whispering. "I am getting married to John in six weeks, and you are leaving for who-knows-where, so I feel I damn well deserve to have one last adventure with you… and do it like in the good old times when we were not in love… when we were only comrades. I enjoyed those times, Will. Did you not?"

He gulped. "Of… of course I did."

"Then what is holding you back? Say yes!"

"Yes," he replied, his whole being shaking. He knew that things could never be like they had been years and years ago, but she was right: those memories were fond ones, and why deny themselves the chance to feel like that – or almost like that – again? Just one more time before their ways parted for ever?

"Great," she nodded. "How about you go back for your written orders while I go and tell the crew to get ready?"

There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, and he realised this was the Emily he had fallen in love with: the adventure-seeking, energetic, courageous girl. God, he thought as he returned to Jane's office, how he had missed this Emily!

oOo

"I see I am the first," Emily said as she arrived at Temeraire and Iskierka's pavilion. Iskierka was once again absent, probably getting a second helping of cows for lunch.

"The first of whom?" Temeraire asked.

"The crew. I've roused all of them. We're going off to fight."

"We?" the Celestial's eyes widened. "You mean, you, Granby and Iskierka with your crew? Is Granby not too sick for fighting? And what fighting are you talking about?"

"John _is_ too sick to fight, and I am not talking about him and Iskierka and her crew. I am talking about you and your crew. I am temporarily your first lieutenant, just been appointed. As for the fight: imagine what trouble that dratted cousin of yours landed us in! She laid an egg from a Grand Chevalier!"

"You mean... Lien? She has had an egg?"

"Yes," Emily nodded. "And the egg is currently hidden on a ship bound for St. Helena. The Bonapartists intend to send it to their boss, and it's our task to prevent that, so the boys will be here in a minute with the harness. I told them to give you proper battle gear, but the lighter sort, as you will need to fly very quick and a great distance."

For a moment Temeraire was too surprised and shocked to comment, he just stared at the snow, processing the information. He had been so sure that that part of his life was over, that he need not worry about Lien any longer... Apparently he had been wrong. On the other hand, he was finally getting some excitement! And he had little Emily back on his crew! "But... but Emily... what about the egg?"

"I told you, the egg is aboard a ship, some merchantman called the _Lucinda_–"

"That is not what I meant. I meant your egg."

"Oh," she reddened slightly. "There's no egg, thank God! Ah, there is Fellowes coming with the rest of the ground crew! Tell you what, I'll go and say good-bye to John while they rig you out." She patted Temeraire's flank, then turned on her heels and hurried off, as much as one could hurry in knee-high snow.

Temeraire stared after her, feeling dispirited despite the prospect of a new adventure. He had known it was wrong, but deep down he had still wished Emily had had Laurence's egg. Perhaps, by some miracle, they could have had a chance to raise the child together, and Temeraire would have had a future captain. But there was very slight chance for such a miracle happening, so perhaps it was better for them to not have an egg at all.

Heaving a sigh, he slipped out of the pavilion, offering the ground crew better access to his back and belly. Soon he spotted Laurence walking towards them, a spark of excitement in his eyes. Temeraire knew this was exactly what his captain needed: something to take his mind off the unfortunate mating with Emily. Then again, the fact that they were taking Emily along as his first officer, very likely would not help Laurence forget about her.

Well, Temeraire thought, only time would tell how things go. And perhaps time had a good solution for even Laurence and Emily's problem...

oOo

"Please do not be mad at me, I just had to offer to go with them!"

"Emily, dearest, how could I be mad at you?" Granby smiled weakly. "I am glad you are getting some excitement, God knows we have all missed it... only promise me to take care of yourself."

"I promise," she lightly kissed him. "I expect we will be back in four or five weeks, six at most."

"I seriously hope you aren't going to miss your own wedding," Granby chuckled.

"I do not intend to," she grinned. "February the 26th, I remember, and I'll be sure to be back by then. But you may need to arrange the whole thing on your own..."

"Never worry about that. The doctor said I could get up in three or four days, then I will devote all my attention to the wedding arrangements. I want everything to be perfect. Speaking of which, do you have a dress?"

"Oh," she made a grimace. "Totally forgot about that. Tell you what, I wore a dress to the New Year's Eve party, that is my only female dress for the time being. I give you permission to rummage through my wardrobe. If you find it, just take it to a seamstress and ask her to make a wedding dress of the same size. Preferably something simple. I don't want frills and lace. If you are unsure about the design, you can ask Catherine for some help, huh?"

"Like I would ask the opinion of someone who got married in her breeches," Granby laughed. "I truly regret not having seen it, it must've been a sight!"

"Yes, it was," Emily grinned at the memories. Even in her breeches and despite her bulging belly, Catherine had been a pretty bride. And just to think that _she_ too could have got married with a bulging belly, had she conceived from Laurence and had John not agreed to hold the wedding earlier...

Suppressing the urge to have an almighty sigh, she got up from her fiancé's bedside. "Heal quickly, John."

"Take care, honey. And take care of Laurence as well, will you? He tends to get into trouble..."

Emily's lips twitched. "Does he, really? I never noticed..."

oOo

The journey southwards was mostly uneventful. They put in at several ports along the coast of the Atlantic, or, to be precise, they usually touched down on the outskirts of port towns and the runners went into town for supplies, as no one of the crew wanted to scare off the stallholders by bringing a dragon anywhere near them.

They had flown for six days without having spotted the _Lucinda_. Occasionally they flew over ships Laurence had once served on, but never approached them.

Temeraire was mostly bored as Laurence had had to pack very quickly and had forgotten to take books with him. The runners, two boys of eleven years, were rather happy about the lack of books: they were not very fond of Laurence's rigorous method of education.

Halfway between Faro and Madeira, Laurence decided a little shooting practice was in order, which the riflemen fulfilled with delight – they had not had a proper chance to shoot at anyone or anything for months, and they were getting rusty.

"Ouch," Temeraire winced as one of the younger riflemen accidentally grazed his left wing. "I believe the boys have truly come out of practice."

"And I believe you have got unused to being shot, my dear," Laurence said fondly, remembering that in battles Temeraire usually had not even noticed taking a bullet deep into his chest, and now he had winced from a tiny wound like some pampered princess. "Mr. Dorset, be so kind and have a look at the injury."

"No need for that, it only grazed me, no need to patch me up," Temeraire grunted. Laurence could see his dragon was irritable, and definitely not because of the slight injury. Temeraire had been unusually silent since they had left Dover, and he could not fathom why.

"My dear, is something bothering you?" he asked gently.

"No, nothing, Laurence."

"Are you getting tired? Do you want to sink into sea a bit and swim? I fear there is no land anywhere around where you could properly touch down, but–"

"No, Laurence, I am not tired. It is just... but you will laugh at me. And so will the crew."

"We will not laugh at you," the captain said. "Right?" he looked over his shoulder, his eyes delivering a silent order to each and every officer.

"Of course not," Emily was the first to reply, and soon everyone echoed her words.

"Oh, all right, then," Temeraire sighed. "I am not happy about us taking this egg. Not at all. Of course I know we cannot let Napoleon have it, but still... it is Lien's egg, and Lien was a very unpleasant dragon. I am sure this dragonet will be very unpleasant too, he will only cause trouble for us."

"Oh, my dear," Laurence shook his head with an indulgent smile, "the fact that Lien laid the egg does not mean that the dragon that hatches from it will be just as nasty as she was."

"Nastiness can be inherited," Temeraire reasoned.

"Yes, it can, but it is not necessarily passed on. Nastiness may arise from bad upbringing, and in Lien's case, I am sure, it was the fact that she was considered as a sign of ill-luck that had turned her the way she was. It was only Yongxing who cared for her, so no wonder she loved the prince."

"Yongxing was very unpleasant too," Temeraire pointed out.

"My dear, I am only asking you to not condemn someone based on the fact that you did not like their parents. You are not fond of my father, but you love me. Would you ever dislike me only because you dislike my father?"

"Well... no," Temeraire admitted.

"I am glad to hear that," Laurence patted the dragon's neck.

"Sir, we have spotted another," Ensign Wetherby spoke up. "Five miles ahead."

Laurence fished the telescope out of his bag. "I can see her. Looks like a smaller ship, a bit over a hundred feet... perhaps our _Lucinda_."

"I seriously hope it is, this wild-goose chase is getting on my nerves," Temeraire said.

"Yes, I think it is the _Lucinda_. Sipho," Laurence tossed the telescope to his newly promoted third lieutenant, "your eyes are better. What do you think?"

"I'm not an expert on ships, sir, but it does look like a British merchantman of thirty-six guns," Sipho replied.

"Lieutenant Roland, the orders, then: run up the British flag and prepare for approach," Laurence said. "Everyone, remember our commands from Admiral Roland: we are to take the egg, arrest the crew and escort the ship to the closest port to hand her and her crew over to the local authorities. The prisoners will await further commands there. Firstly we have to concentrate on the arrest of the captain and his officers, and once we have them, the rest of the crew will surrender at once. Then we retrieve the egg."

"Yes, sir," everyone replied in unison, clutching at his or her rifle or sword.

oOo

"A coat, some stockings, stays, a pair of breeches… aha, a dress!" Granby sighed triumphantly.

He had been allowed to get up from his sickbed two days earlier, and he had, as promised, spent all his time with the wedding arrangements. Since he was still forbidden to go patrolling for another two weeks, he had just enough time to talk with the minister and the cakemaker and visit the seamstress.

He knew it was usually the bride and her family who arranged the wedding, but Emily was away playing the heroine and Jane Roland was always too busy to expect help from her in matters like these, not to mention that Granby was not in the least sure if his future mother-in-law was happy about Emily's imminent marriage at all.

The dress he pulled out of his fiancée's wardrobe was of blue velvet material with a delicate flower pattern. He remembered how pretty Emily had looked in it at the New Year's Eve party… and he remembered just how shocking it had been to watch her in this very dress, clinging to Laurence under the mistletoe…

With a sigh, he banished those memories to the back of his mind, carefully laying the blue dress on the bed. As he folded it, its back with the tiny buttons got on the top, and Granby nearly let the dress drop.

Four of the ten buttons were missing, and quite a bit of the material around them looked like it had been torn. Ripped open.

'_We went further that night... after we had both drunk some of the spiked wine. John... I slept with her. I slept with your fiancée.'_

"So it was real," he whispered, surprised that he was _not_ feeling surprised. "I was right to think I did not dream it..."

oOo

In a couple of minutes they reached the ship, and the name '_LUCINDA_' was easily decipherable on her stern.

"Hover over the ship, my dear," Laurence told Temeraire and took a speaking-trumpet to enhance his words as he shouted at the scared crew below, "This is Captain Laurence of Temeraire, with commands from the Admiral of the Air to capture this ship and her crew. It has come to our knowledge that this ship is transporting a dragon egg to St. Helena with the intention of giving it over to Napoleon. You must be aware that such an act is treason, therefore you are all under arrest. Who is the captain of this ship?"

"It is I," a portly man of fifty or fifty-five stepped forward, "Captain Hodge, at your service, Captain Laurence. May I ask what kind of idiocy this all is? We are transporting no dragon eggs! I surely would know if we were!"

"According to our information, you have put in the port of Brest, and that is where the egg was brought on board," Laurence continued, "or do you deny it?"

"I most certainly do," Captain Hodge spread his arms with a politely puzzled expression. "We bought supplies in Brest, and loaded a few crates of good French wine, that is all. That is no grounds for arrest, is it?"

"Are you sure that one of those crates did not contain a dragon egg?" Laurence raised his voice even more.

"Beg your pardon, Captain, we haven't opened the crates, they are sealed like they should be," the captain of the _Lucinda_ replied. "Surely the consignee would not be happy with us if they got their goods opened…"

Laurence had a suspicion that Captain Hodge was lying, but he could not be sure. It felt a little awkward for him to accuse someone of treason after he had committed it himself, and at an even larger scale than this man did, but he had not expected money or any special treatment for his actions. He had humbly returned to England to face the consequences. This man, however, refused to confess his treason, and in this case they had to make do without the cooperation of the _Lucinda_'s crew. "Then you leave us no choice but to open them ourselves," Laurence said harshly.

"And who will pay for my loss if the consignee refuses to pay the full price?" Captain Hodge bristled.

"If you are telling the truth, you have no reason to be afraid. The Admiralty shoulders the responsibility for this action. You will be compensated for your loss," Laurence said. _**If **__Jane manages to persuade their Lordships that the Corps is in dire need of funds_, he added in thought.

"All right," Captain Hodge said, "please descend to our humble circle, Captain Laurence, and let us see those crates together. They are down in the hold."

Laurence knitted his eyebrows, a nasty sense of premonition spreading in the pit of his stomach, but before he could speak, Emily said, "Our captain may not go. A captain is too valuable in the Aerial Corps. It is the first lieutenant's task to go, so I shall."

"A woman?" some of the ship's crew muttered.

"Emily, no," Laurence hissed.

"Captain, it is tradition, almost as binding as law," the girl replied sternly. "A lieutenant is dispensable. A captain is not. Especially if that captain commands an important dragon such as Temeraire."

"Excidium is an important dragon too, and you are to have him–"

"Emily, it truly might be dangerous," Temeraire interjected, "I do not trust these people at all."

"Captain, as long as Temeraire is here, they cannot harm us," the girl said quietly. "Give one or two officers to escort me, and we'll be fine."

"Why do you not bring those crates on deck?" Laurence shouted at Captain Hodge.

"There are two hundred and forty four crates," came the reply. "It would take like… a day to bring them all on deck. Call me a bloody coward, sir, but I would not risk such an attempt with those clouds approaching," Hodge pointed at the horizon towards the south-east.

Laurence knew at first glance that there was a storm coming. A fairly big one. And that meant that bringing crates on deck would indeed be a risky business – with waves washing over the deck, the crates could get loose and get smashed, or worse, smash people. Perhaps it would still be of smaller risk to send some of his crew below deck, even though he did not like this possibility either. "Sipho, Thomas, Gardner, you go with Lieutenant Roland. Armed," he said in a low voice. "And keep your eyes open. These merchants seem to be peaceful fellows, and I cannot spot a single sword or pistol poking out of their belts, but you may never know. Temeraire, you keep your eyes open for the cannons."

With a heavy heart, he watched as Emily, Sipho and the others climbed down Temeraire's side and further down a rope they hastily attached to the harness, then joined Captain Hodge on the desk. He could already hear the rumble of the thunder in the distance, and as though this were a cue for Hodge and his officers to act, three guns were levelled at each and every aviator who had descended from the dragon's back. In another second all four of them were disarmed, their pistols and swords quickly disappearing in the crowd of seamen.

Temeraire let out a roar that mingled with another thunderclap, and Laurence's hand dived for his own pistol, but stopped halfway. "Put down your weapons," he yelled at his crew. "We cannot risk shooting our comrades by accident!"

"Well, then, care to negotiate, Captain Laurence?" Captain Hodge smirked, pointing his pistol right at Emily's temple as he held her in a grip from behind. Laurence saw the girl's elbow move slightly, clearly intending to push it into Hodge's stomach and try to break free, but before she could do anything, he shouted, "Emily, no!" Laurence had seen her defeating convicts in Australia in the same way, but those had usually not been armed and had not been pointing a weapon at her head. Hodge's finger on the trigger might waver at the slightest move from Emily, and she would be dead in an instant. "Hodge, you mangy dog, take your hands off her!"

"I fear I cannot do that," the ship's captain grinned. "If I do not keep the lady and your other men as hostages, what guarantee do I get that you and your beast will not attack us? Or will you _still _attack?"

Laurence gulped. This was probably the hardest thing in being a captain: having to decide about the life and death of your crew. He had always hated having to make such decisions, as they could never be fully just. As a captain, he had always had to keep the interests of the Navy, and then the Corps in mind, defying his personal feelings. But he had never been in love with any of his crewmembers before.

"You want a guarantee?" he snapped at Hodge. "Take me instead. Let her go, and take me instead."

oOo

**A/N: typical Laurence, huh? ;) Reviews would be appreciated as always.**


	12. Don't Count Your Dragons

**A/N: thanks to **_**Anna Scathach, Radishgirl36**_** and **_**Polyarny**_** for the review on chapter 11.**

**Chapter 12**

**Don't Count Your Dragons Until They Are Hatched**

"You want a guarantee? Take me instead. Let her go, and take me instead."

Temeraire thought he had heard it wrong.

"Laurence, no!" Emily shouted.

Apparently he _had_ heard it right, Temeraire decided. His captain was once again playing the hero. The stupid sort of hero. But it was exactly this type of behaviour that made Laurence _Laurence_. And Temeraire loved that about his captain.

"Laurence, I do not like this idea either," he said, "although I do not like them holding Emily, Sipho, Gardner and Thomas hostage either."

"Captain, as Emily said, we are expendable," Sipho added. "You may not sacrifice yourself to save us, it is against the rules of the Corps."

"To hell with the rules," Laurence grunted and slid down the rope on Temeraire's side but stayed close to his hovering body. "Release them, Hodge. All of them. It is me you want. You know you can keep Temeraire in check best if you have me. Right, my dear?" he sent his dragon a meaningful glance. "The chances for Temeraire letting me be harmed in any way are smaller than for a gust of wind to break the mainmast."

Temeraire's eyes widened. _Wind._ Of course. He quickly sized up the mast – it was massive, but nothing he could not break with the divine wind. And if he managed to make it topple in the opposite direction, towards the prow, no one of his crew on deck would be harmed. All they needed was a surprise attack. And as long as Laurence knew what to expect, he would surely find a way to stay unharmed as well.

"I shall walk over to you, and you will release my men," Laurence said firmly. "All four of them. Give me your word that you will."

"His word? How can you still trust this piece of scum?" Emily hissed.

"He might be a piece of scum, but even a piece of scum hates to go back on his word and lose face," Laurence said. "Do I have your word, Captain Hodge?"

"Yes, Captain Laurence," came the sickeningly sweet reply. "You come here, the girl and the others go free and leave. All of them, the beast included."

"But... if we all go now, how and when will we get Laurence back?" Temeraire bristled.

"Once we have left St. Helena," Hodge replied. "We shall leave him there for you to retrieve him, under the care of Napoleon and his new pet, that, as I've heard, is going to be quite a huge beast, possibly bigger than you are," he flashed Temeraire with a sarcastic grin.

"I doubt it could be _much _bigger than me," Temeraire said haughtily. "And I believe your plans have their flaws, but I do not think we have another choice, do we, Laurence?" It was quite obvious for him now that Laurence had suspected from the beginning that they were walking into a trap, but he had also known there was no other way for getting the egg but to walk willingly into the trap, and then... simply improvise. Temeraire did not much like improvising, but he knew that in some cases it was necessary. And, by the look of these fellows aboard the _Lucinda_, they did not know they were facing a Celestial, which meant that he could indeed surprise them.

"No, my dear, we have no other choice," Laurence said stoically. "Let us hurry with the exchange, Captain Hodge, the storm is getting closer and closer. I would not like anyone to get thrown overboard by a gust of wind..."

By this time Emily and Sipho's expression both revealed that they had understood what their captain and dragon were planning, and perhaps Thomas and Gardner had also.

With a meaningful glance towards Temeraire, Laurence walked up to Hodge, who, with a jerk of his head, motioned some of his men to take hold of their new prisoner, then pushed Emily forward. The other three members of Temeraire's crew were released right after her, and Temeraire could see Emily trembling, but he assumed it was not with fear, rather with a barely suppressed urge to beat the crap out of Hodge.

As soon as Emily and the others reached the rope hanging from Temeraire's hovering body and began climbing, Temeraire glanced at Laurence. His captain made a barely noticeable nod.

Captain Hodge and his crew seemingly did not know what hit them – or more precisely, the mainmast over their heads. They looked up in horror, seeing an enormous crack run around the mast's girth and break it in half. Some of them must have thought a flash of lightning had hit the ship, as the storm was dangerously close by now, but as soon as they had realised it had not been a lightning, it was late for them: the mainmast gave an almighty moan as it tumbled towards the prow, and men fled in every direction to avoid getting buried under it.

Laurence used this moment of chaos and the lapse of his captors' attention to elbow one of them in the stomach just like Emily had intended with Hodge, then skilfully trip the other.

"Laurence, catch!" Emily chucked a tiny pistol at him that she must have hid in her boots, and he caught it, delivering a punch at Hodge's face with its handle. The man whom he had just tripped jumped to his feet and lunged at Laurence, but a clear shot from Temeraire's back made him collapse on the deck.

"Catch the captain! The captain!" Hodge tried to outbellow his crazed men in vain, shooting in every direction like a maniac. He was very clearly not trained for combat. Some of his fellows fired towards Temeraire too, but not in an attempt to save their captain, rather delivering random shots over their shoulders as they fled towards the prow. In a matter of seconds Hodge found himself alone on the spot where he stood, his comrades either having escaped, or occupied with trying to disentangle themselves from the heaps of sailcloth. The bravest few were trying to dig their stuck fellows out from under the fallen mast, but most of them had put as much distance between themselves and the wind-roaring dragon as possible.

"What cowards," Temeraire said.

"They are no soldiers," Laurence panted as he hid behind a barrel in case some of the sailors decided to release some more shots in his direction. "Temeraire, take care of Hodge, will you? But make sure he stays alive!"

"As you wish, Laurence." Temeraire descended a bit, almost touching the deck with his hind legs, then reached out, curled his claws around the abandoned captain who seemed to be paralysed with shock, and lifted him off the deck. "Eww," he commented. "Laurence, he wet my claws."

"It happens," his captain shrugged with a small grin, emerging from behind the barrel. He clearly no longer thought he was in any danger of being shot with Temeraire holding Hodge in his claws. "Captain Hodge, I believe you are truly under arrest now. Pray inform your crew about the turn of events and ask them to kindly put their weapons into a heap under Temeraire's legs. Then they may stand in a line and let my lieutenants escort them into the brig, or, I believe there is no brig on a merchantman, so we shall use your cabin for the purpose if it has a door that can be locked."

Hodge did not reply, only his lips twitched and his eyes were bulging. He was clearly still in shock.

"What did you say?" Temeraire lifted Hodge closer to himself as though he had not understood what the man had muttered, although he was aware Hodge had not uttered a single word. Upon getting within half a metre's vicinity of the huge dragon fangs, Hodge simply fainted.

Laurence looked with contempt at the unconscious captain dangling from Temeraire's claws. "Temeraire, lift me up a bit, will you, and Emily, get me my speaking-trumpet!"

As soon as the trumpet was tossed at him from the dragon's back, Temeraire lifted him slightly. "Crew of the _Lucinda_, listen to me!" Laurence shouted at the sailors gathered and trembling at the prow, as far from the dragon hovering over the stern as possible. "Your captain is in our hands, unconscious but unharmed. I see most of you are uninjured by the mast and are capable of listening to reason. Put your weapons down in a heap there," he pointed at the area close to the stairs leading down to the hold, "and if you surrender, you will get a chance to explain yourselves in a just trial. _You_ still have the chance to prove that you never knew about the egg, but your captain, I fear, has lost his right to that. Be sensible and give yourselves up and you shall not be harmed, neither by my men, nor by Temeraire. I trust you have seen what he can do with his roar…"

Most sailors looked scared, but some seemed rather confused than scared – these were obviously the ones who had not yet made the connection between the breaking mainmast and Temeraire's presence. Laurence went on, "It was Temeraire who broke the mast with his special ability, the divine wind. I expect no one here would be happy if he released it upon you once again. Having to fight the oncoming storm will be quite enough for you, I believe. Speaking of which, who is the helmsman? And where is the first officer of this ship? Both of them, step forward!"

"The first officer is dead, sir," someone replied from the crowd. "He was one of those three who died buried under the mast. The helmsman is injured."

"Most unfortunate," Laurence frowned. "Who is the second lieutenant, then?"

"We never had one, sir," came the reply.

"Then I have no other choice, but to take over the ship," Laurence said. "Never fear, I spent eighteen years on sea, served on a dozen ships of the Navy, and was a captain of a frigate for six years. I know what I am doing. First, I expect you to put your weapons down." His voice was peremptory, its strictness magnified by the ever louder thunderclaps.

The _Lucinda_'s crew, albeit reluctantly, came forward and placed their pistols, rifles and swords on the spot Laurence had pointed out to them. For the crew of a merchantman, they had been amazingly well equipped with weaponry. Laurence did not doubt for a second that most of the crew had been in on their captain's secret, but he did not regard it as his task to pass judgement over them – he left that to the British jurisdiction.

"Good. Now ten of my men will escort you down to your captain's cabin that will serve as a temporary brig. Take your injured fellows with yourselves, and I shall send your surgeon to patch them up. The captain's cabin is where you will spend the rest of the journey to the closest port, Funchal, where I shall give you over to the authorities. I am sure we can find some ship of the Royal Navy anchored there; they will take care of you after we put in to port. You will get a fair trial, you have my word on that. Now, I require a dozen of you to take care of the sails, as my crew are no seamen. Are you ready to obey my command?"

The _Lucinda_'s crew once again looked reluctant, but eventually most of them nodded. Temeraire was elated to see the determination with which his captain acted and hear the self-assurance in his voice. He had missed this determined man; in the past few months Laurence had been insecure, depressed and a mere shadow of himself. Perhaps it was the fact that he was once again at sea? The thought pierced Temeraire's heart like a lance. Could it be possible that his captain had missed the sea _so_ much? So far he had only thought Laurence's depression had been due to Emily, but now he was no longer sure. He felt jealous of the sea.

"Fine, I am glad to see you listen to reason," Laurence told the sailors once the last pistol had been thrown on the heap of weaponry. "Temeraire pray put me down. Emily, choose ten people to escort our prisoners to the brig. You people there on the right," he pointed at about a dozen sailors, "reef in the fore topgallant, the fore upper topsail and the fore topsail, and every single sail on the mizzenmast! The flying jib and the standing jib too!"

As the appointed sailors began to work, Emily started calling the names of those she chose as the prisoners' escort. "Jones, Potter, Harvey, Sipho–"

"Sipho has been shot, Lieutenant Roland," Dorset shouted.

"Shot?" Emily yelled back. "How bad?"

"I will… survive…" came the weak voice of the third lieutenant from Temeraire's back, but Dorset quickly added, "He won't if I can't get that bullet out of him anytime soon!"

Temeraire craned his neck to have a look at Sipho, and he saw quite a bit of blood splattering his scales around the unfortunate boy.

"Emily, finish choosing the escorts, and as soon as the _Lucinda_'s crew is in the brig, Temeraire will help Sipho and Dorset down on the deck," Laurence said. "Quick!"

In ten minutes every sailor save the dozen under Laurence's command was safely locked into the captain's cabin, the sails had been reefed in, and Sipho and Dorset were gently transferred from Temeraire's back to his claws, then to the deck.

"Jones, Harvey, take Sipho below deck," Laurence instructed his riflemen, then turned to the sailors under his command. "Does your ship surgeon have a separate cabin?"

"Yes, sir," a lanky youth replied, "and I expect he will be there, he barely ever leaves his cabin."

"Fine. Dorset, make use of the ship surgeon's help. Once you two have patched up Sipho, you can lend the ship surgeon to the prisoners, they have a few injured too. You, boy," Laurence addressed the lanky youth, "escort our surgeon down to yours."

Once Harvey and Jones, carrying the moaning Sipho and followed by Dorset disappeared below deck, Laurence turned back to Temeraire and his crew. "Emily, I want you to take Temeraire to Madeira and find a place on the outskirts of Funchal to touch down. You can outfly this storm, there is no need to endanger either Temeraire or the crew."

"But Laurence, I am in no danger," the dragon protested, "and I will definitely not leave you alone on this ship with these dubious characters," he jerked his head towards the eleven sailors who had remained on deck.

"You cannot fly in a raging storm, Temeraire," Laurence reasoned.

"I did once, and I was barely more than a hatchling then," Temeraire reminded him. "I shall not leave you. I can, however, sink into the water and swim. I will not drown, you know what a good swimmer I am."

With a sigh of defeat, Laurence nodded. "All right, then, but I want the crew on deck. _They_ could drown if they are tied to your harness."

The aviators began filtering down Temeraire's side onto the _Lucinda_. The last one of them touched down on deck just in time before the storm was fully upon them.

"Emily, take them below deck, and stay there," Laurence shouted at her through the roaring of the wind. "Take our unconscious captain as well and take good care of him."

"Captain, I am not leaving you alone on deck!" the girl shouted back.

"Emily, once in a while I accept opposition from Temeraire, but none from you or any of my crew members!" Laurence snapped. "Get below deck this instant!"

Temeraire, who had already touched down into the waves next to the ship, now raised his head to look at them over the rail – they were standing there facing each other, their hands balled into fists, staring at each other with fierce expressions. Yet beyond that fierceness there was an extreme amount of hidden gentleness trying to be break out, or at least, Temeraire believed there was.

"Emily, Laurence only wants you to be safe," he piped up. "Listen to him. I shall take care of him for you, I promise. Should he fall into the water, I shall pull him out, and should anyone try to harm him, I will not let them."

Emily bit into her lower lip, and Temeraire could not decide if the rivulets on her face were only raindrops or they were mingling with tears. "All right," she yelled at Temeraire, "but if anyone so much as touches a hair of his head, _you_ will have _me_ to answer to!" With that she turned on her heels, shouted at two aviators to carry the unconscious Hodge and motioned the rest of the crew to follow her as she hurried down the steps into the hold.

A long moment of silence ensued – as much as the roaring of the wind and the splashing of the waves could be called silent. "What are you looking at?" Temeraire asked the eleven sailors who were standing on deck with confused expressions. "Have you never seen a banter between lovers?"

"Temeraire, hold your tongue!" Laurence snapped.

"Never fear, Laurence, the storm is loud enough, my crew below deck could not have heard what I said."

Even despite the darkness the storm had brought upon them, the flush on Laurence's cheeks was clearly visible. Pretending he did not notice the curious glances his new sailor crew was giving him, Laurence marched past them with a grim expression and took hold of the steering wheel that had been abandoned by the helmsman.

"Laurence, if you keep gripping it that tight, you might tear the whole thing out of its place," Temeraire opined.

Receiving another dark glance from his captain, he decided to fall silent and wait for the storm to be over, hoping that the storm raging in Laurence's soul due to Emily's insubordination would likewise disappear with the first ray of sunshine.

o

The first ray of sunshine refused to appear until shortly before sunset, but as soon as it did, filtering through the clouds, it bathed the distant bulk of Madeira in golden light. It was a lovely sight to behold. The sea was still rough, but most aviators had come back on board and Laurence had not ordered them once again to hide below deck, there was no reason to. Some of them had a pale complexion and Laurence suspected they must have vomited during the storm, but most looked healthy and content about their successful mission of capturing the ship.

Thankfully their clothes were not as fully soaked as Laurence's, so he was hopeful his crew would not catch a cold, although he definitely could not say the same about himself. Everything had happened so quickly aboard the _Lucinda_ that here had been no time to transfer the crew's things from Temeraire's belly net to his back, besides, in such a storm the garments would have soaked through even on the dragon's back despite being packed into chests. Naturally Laurence's oilskin coat had been stuck in the belly net like the others' things, leaving him dripping wet in the storm.

"How is Sipho doing?" he addressed Emily, trying not to shake too visibly in the cool evening air.

"Not well," she replied. "A damn bad luck that he should have been hit by a random shot... I bet those sailors weren't even aiming properly when they retreated to the prow! Poor Sipho... But thankfully the surgeons say he has a good chance of survival, though they both agree that he will have a better chance on land than on sea."

"Then we might need to leave him in Funchal if he takes long to recuperate," Laurence sighed. "I hate the thought of having to leave him behind, but we must deliver the egg to England as soon as possible. As far as I know, Lien was caught and imprisoned by the Prussians after the battle of Leipzig and only Napoleon's spies managed to free her after he had returned from Elba..."

"...which means she must have lain the egg _before_ Leipzig," Emily drew the conclusion.

"Exactly, meaning she laid the egg about... twenty-nine months ago. I do not remember how long exactly a Celestial spends in the egg before hatching, and even less do I know this fact about Grand Chevaliers, but I am sure Lien's egg cannot be far from hatching, a few months, probably... But I trust Dorset will be able to give us a better estimate once he sees it. Speaking of which, Emily, now that we are sailing on more peaceful waters, I would like you to go and try to find the egg. Take as many of the crew as you want, I do not expect you to lift crates, let the men do that."

"Not that I couldn't," she grunted, but seeing his determined expression, she heaved a sigh. "All right, Captain. I'm off."

Laurence looked after her with a wistful smile on his face. Ever since the start of their journey they had been avoiding all sort of conversation outside duty and managed to maintain the pretence of a merely collegial relationship, yet their conversations aboard of the _Lucinda_ had been vibrating with tension and withheld emotions. Every time she addressed him during this mission, he had the impression that she was longing to call him William, but she obviously could not without waking the crew's suspicion. She must have regarded even 'Laurence' as a too cordial and informal way of addressing him. He felt the 'captain' from her lips cold and indifferent, yet he knew he could not expect anything else.

"Hey, Laurence," Temeraire poked his head over the rail, "you did great as a naval captain again, and you did not even fall into the water!"

"Temeraire," Laurence laughed, "this is not the Navy. It was fairly easy, even in a storm."

"Does that mean you enjoyed it? Was it nice to be a captain of a ship again?" the dragon asked, his voice sounding a little insecure, as though there was a hint of jealousy in it. "Was it... _thrilling_?"

Despite feeling colder and colder, Laurence suppressed a grin. His Temeraire was jealous of the _Lucinda_! "Yes, my dear," he said, "it was thrilling. But not nearly as thrilling as being your captain."

Temeraire's eyes lit up with joy as he lifted himself up from the water. "I am so glad to hear that, Laurence! Of course, a ship cannot compare to a dragon, can it? A ship cannot think, cannot talk and cannot love you... and I love you very much."

"I love you very much too," Laurence flashed his dragon with a smile, and longed to pat him on the muzzle, but he could not abandon the steering wheel. "I only hope the hatchling gets a captain it can love as much as you love me."

"I fear the hatchling won't get any captain ever," he heard Emily's voice from the direction of the steps as she emerged from the hold. "Here, wrap this around yourself before you catch a cold," she handed him a blanket she must have confiscated from someone's cabin.

"What do you mean?" Laurence frowned as he took the blanket from her.

"I don't know if it was the storm or just careless handling by the crew, but the crate that held the egg smashed. I fear the egg's been broken."

oOo

**A/N: be so kind and leave a review. You will make me very happy if you do.**


	13. One Night Only

**A/N: I've got big news, folks! In about a month's time I will have my first book, "Second Atlantis" published! A real book, I barely can believe it! :D But since it's in Hungarian, you will only be able to read it if you speak Hungarian. Which I doubt many of you do. :( But in case you do, be sure to check out the book's brand new website (link in my ffnet profile).**

**Much thanks to **_**Polyarny, Anna Scathach, Nimbus Llewelyn**_** and **_**Radishgirl36**_** for reviewing chapter 12.**

**Chapter 13**

**One Night Only**

"Broken?" Laurence breathed.

"Yes," Emily sighed. "Not fully, but... come and see for yourself."

Laurence knew he had to abandon the steering wheel this time. "You there," he addressed a middle-aged sailor, "take the wheel for a couple of minutes. Temeraire, keep an eye on him and the others and make sure we do not leave our course for Madeira."

"Yes, Laurence," the dragon replied, sending the sailors a meaningful glance that made all of them quite visibly shiver. Under different circumstances this would have made Laurence laugh or grin at least, but the grave news left him in no mood to afford even the smallest smile.

"Lead the way, Emily."

In a minute they reached the spacious room below deck where the crates were stored. Apparently there had been at least one thing Hodge had not lied about: he had said there were two hundred and forty-four crates in the hold. At first glance it did seem over two hundred, Laurence noted to himself. About one-thirds of them had been opened by his crew, the rest remained untouched.

The aviators who had worked on the opening of the crates were still loitering around, looking quite uneasy. Clearly none of them had expected to find the egg damaged.

Emily stepped to one of the bigger crates that looked shabby enough on the outside – its hinges had been torn off by the force of the collision as it had smashed into either the wall or the other crates – and Laurence did not dare imagine what it would look like on the inside. But he knew he had to fight down any sense of reluctance and peek into it.

The crate had been padded with straw, and in the middle sat the egg, or rather half-sat, half-lay in a strange askew way, and there was an ugly dent on the top from which cracks spread in every direction. Egg-slime was dripping through the cracks, coating the straw below.

"It is dead, I presume?" Laurence said. The dent was big but the cracks were narrow and he could not see what was inside the eggshell.

"Very likely, sir," Emily nodded.

"Pray call Dorset, let him examine–" Laurence began, but the words froze in his throat as the egg moved. It was barely noticeable, just a tiny ripple of the slimy straw around, but it was definitely movement. For a moment both he and Emily stared at the egg, then they looked up and their eyes met, radiating shock and excitement. "Call Dorset. Right now!"

"Yes, sir!" Emily flashed him with a hopeful smile and ran out, the sound of her steps echoing through the wooden corridor. Laurence finally afforded himself a smile – even her steps were full of energy, the sort of energy that had always been characteristic of her, already at Loch Laggan, when she had given up her own bedsheets to use them as a towel for Temeraire... She had always been bursting with youthful energy that made her so loveable; perhaps only the past few months had been an exception. And Laurence did not want to imagine what she would be like after her wedding to Granby. Granby was a good man and would undoubtedly be a caring and understanding husband, but would Emily remain this ball of energy in a marriage to someone she did not love? He seriously doubted that.

In a minute she returned with a blood-soaked Dorset.

"God, do tell me that all that blood does not come from Sipho!" Laurence gasped.

"No, some belongs to the sailors," the surgeon replied, stepping to the egg and placing a hand gently on an unharmed section of the shell. "It is not hardened yet, but I see the beginnings of hardening. I expect it should have spent another three or four months inside, but looks like it is going to be a premature baby. Hatchling, I mean."

"A premature hatchling?" Laurence raised an eyebrow. "Does that happen with dragons at all?"

"I haven't heard of a case yet," Dorset said with a little too much merriness in the circumstances. "But every novelty is a challenge, is it not?"

"What are we to do with it?" Emily wondered.

"Well, if we leave it inside the egg, it will surely die," the surgeon said, scratching his jaw with a blooded hand. "You know, egg-slime, once exposed to fresh air, starts to..."

"...rot?" Laurence offered.

"Exactly. A few hours do not matter, but should it stay like that for a longer time... yes, it will definitely rot, and the hatchling with it. As long as it is in the eggshell, the hatchling breathes through the egg-slime. Once the egg-slime goes bad, the hatchling will simply suffocate. Therefore the only thing we can do is get it out of the shell and hope it survives outside."

"Like a Caesarean section," Emily mused, "only without the mother present."

"Thank heaven," Dorset grunted. "Caesarean sections are brutal, the unfortunate women barely ever survive..."

Laurence gulped. He knew well enough why he had been his mother's last child although Lady Allendale had always wanted to have a daughter: giving birth to him had nearly killed her and allegedly the doctor had suggested a Caesarean to save the baby at least, but his father had refused to give his consent. How he had been delivered and his mother had stayed alive, had remained a mystery, or, as some in the Laurence household had said, a miracle. Laurence never knew for sure, but he had a suspicion that this was one of the reasons his father never loved him as much as his brothers: he had nearly caused his mother's death. And perhaps for the same reason Lady Allendale had always loved him most of her sons: he had been the one for whom she had suffered most, in every respect.

And this was probably the reason why Lord Allendale had had one-night stands like the one with Jane: he had had to be too careful with his wife not to get her with child again. But that was no grounds to become an adulterer, at least, not in Laurence's opinion. Had his father truly wanted to stay faithful to his mother, he could have reached satisfaction in the same way Laurence had had with Jane after her miscarriage. It all came down to determination: a determination to stay faithful.

His lips twitched as he reminded himself that he had cheated on Nancy therefore had no right to judge his father. True, he had been drunk and drugged, but at least a tiny part of his brains had been functioning, and that tiny part had known it all along that he was doing something wrong. Yet he had not really cared, for it had been about Emily. And she tended to make him lose his mind.

"Hey, you okay?" she gently nudged him, shaking him back to reality. And reality was worrying, to say the least.

"Yes, yes, fine," he nodded. "Mr. Dorset, where shall we do it? Here, or on deck?"

"Here would be best," the surgeon replied, "but we will need help with lifting it out."

"Pray help Mr. Dorset," Laurence addressed his loitering men, who immediately gathered around them.

"Careful, careful," Dorset whimpered as the aviators lifted the egg out of the crate. Once it stood on the wooden floor, no longer surrounded by straw, the ripples of the still soft eggshell were quite visible. "Well, the little thing is definitely alive in there... now," he pulled a scalpel out of his blood-splattered coat, "I need someone to prop the egg from the other side while I work on this side."

"Gardner, if you please," Laurence motioned to one of his midwingmen.

Dorset began to work. Inch by inch he cut off more and more off the shell, and every cut he made was accompanied with frenzied ripples from inside. "The little one is nervous about the scalpel," he said. "Fully understandable. I bet no one would be happy to have the sharp point of a knife cutting things around him as the first thing he ever sees of the outer world... Shhh, little one... we are only here to help you... Calm down, calm down..."

"Do you think it understands English already?" Laurence wondered.

"I am not sure. I have never seen a Celestial-Grand Chevalier hybrid," Dorset shrugged, "but we could try French. You speak French, don't you, Captain?"

"A little," Laurence said, turning back to the egg. "Du calme, mon petit, je ne veux pas te malmener, je ne voudrais que t'aider." He was not sure if his French grammar was perfect or even just acceptable, but hoped that the dragonet would understand it nevertheless.

As newer and newer bits of the eggshell got removed and discarded, more and more egg-slime was covering the floor. Now all of them were standing in the transparent goo, and with every passing second saw more of the dragonet inside.

"It is white," Emily breathed in awe, "just like Lien."

"Yes," Laurence nodded. He was sure this fact would not help Temeraire grow fond of the little one. If only it had been black...

A few more cuts, and all the remaining slime flooded out of the shell, leaving a trembling, moaning hatchling inside.

"Awww, the poor little thing," Emily sighed, instinctively reaching out to caress the dragon's wet white hide, but Laurence caught her hand in mid-air.

"I am not sure you should touch him," he said. "Mr. Dorset, would the dragonet not believe he had a right to Emily if she touched him? You know Emily is promised to Excidium..."

"Firstly, I do not think the dragonet would recognise anyone just yet," the surgeon replied, reaching out to caress the little one's neck, "so I believe it is safe for anyone to pamper her a bit. Yes, it is a she, not a he," he pointed at the area between the creature's hind legs. "And she was not hatched in the traditional way, so I cannot be sure if she would ever accept a harness from anyone... but we could still make use of her in the breeding grounds. _If_ she survives. For the time being all we can do is keep her warm."

"Get some dry sailcloth," Laurence told his runners.

"We will need to feed her too," Dorset gently opened the dragonet's mouth, "but her teeth are not fully developed yet, so I'd say she will need to be nursed."

"But do dragons drink milk at all?" Laurence knitted his eyebrows.

"I meant blood," Dorset replied stoically, making Laurence grimace. It sounded creepy to feed a small, snow white creature like this with nothing but blood...

"Carter," he addressed one of his ensigns, "go, look around and bring us something to butcher for her. A goose or a chicken, anything you can find."

The dragonet stirred a bit, moaned in a small and high voice like a new-born puppy, but calmed a bit at Emily's touch. She began stroking the little one's head which made her open her eyes: they were blue. The exact dark blue of Temeraire's. At least she had not inherited everything of her mother's looks, and there was something in her that resembled a proper Celestial. Although she was very small and seemingly very weak, Laurence had a feeling that she would be a very handsome dragon when grown, with her perfectly white skin but dark blue eyes. _If _she reached adulthood at all.

Soon the runners arrived with the sailcloth and Dorset wrapped the baby dragon in it with Emily's help. Carter arrived with a chicken madly thrashing in his grip, scratching and nipping at him wherever she could in an attempt to break free.

"I see you too will need to be patched up," Dorset told the boy with an amused expression, then severed the chicken's head from its neck with an artful swish of his scalpel. He let the chicken's blood soak a corner of the sailcloth then stuck it gently but firmly into the dragonet's mouth and squeezed, so that the liquid would flow down her throat. "We will need to get a nursing bottle once we are on land. Speaking of which, Captain, this little one is in no shape to be dragged halfway across the globe. Not yet, anyway. If you want her to survive, you had better settle down on Madeira for a few weeks at least. She needs lots of rest to grow stronger."

Laurence nodded. "I expect so does Sipho. And if we are in no hurry to deliver the egg to Britain, we might as well stay a bit on Madeira."

"We can stay till the middle of February, or at least, that is the latest for _me _to leave the island," Emily said. "I have a wedding to reach on the 26th."

"Yes, of course," Laurence suppressed a sigh. For a few minutes he had completely forgotten about her impending wedding. "Well, I trust you can take care of the dragonet now. Pray do everything in your power to save her, Mr. Dorset. I shall return to the deck now. We are soon to arrive in Funchal."

"Right, Captain, just one more thing," Dorset said, "will we not have problems with the French about having taken a dragon from them in a time of peace?"

"Not likely," Laurence shook his head. "The Crown has good relations with the Bourbons, and it was the Bourbons' enemies who tried to send the egg to St. Helena. The French Crown may have no claim on it. Besides, we caught the egg on a British ship. We have had every right to seize the ship of British subjects and every object on it, especially if those objects meant threat to the empire. Now, I shall send a few sailors down here to clear up this mess. Holystoning is their task." With a small smile towards his men, he left the room.

By the time Laurence reached on deck, the sun had nearly set, and its last rays offered no heat. Shivering in the cool evening air, he could only hope he would not catch a cold.

"Laurence, you are cold," Temeraire perceived, "and I cannot even curl around you to warm you up..."

"Never mind, my dear, I have felt colder several times before," Laurence waved his hand. "Besides, we are nearly in Funchal, I shall get a warm bed soon." Not that he believed his own words – it would very likely take hours to give the _Lucinda_ over to the port authorities, and probably even longer to find a place where they could sleep with a dragon on the doorstep.

"And what about the egg? Is it dead?" Temeraire asked, and Laurence was appalled to hear hopefulness in his dragon's voice.

"No," he said darkly, "but she is barely alive. We must stay on Madeira for a while to give her a better chance for survival, and Temeraire, I would like you to promise me one thing."

"Anything, Laurence."

"I want you to care for her at least as much as you did for Iskierka in Prussia. I do not know yet if Dorset will let you or ask you to play nursemaid this time around, but please... at least do not be hostile to the poor thing. It is not her fault that Lien was her mother."

Temeraire looked ashamed a bit. "I know, Laurence, and I will try to treat her accordingly."

"Thank you, my dear. Thank you."

oOo

"No, no, no, there is no way I would let you and your crew stay in a hotel! And where would the dear Temeraire sleep then?"

Laurence was too surprised and too tired to say no, so he simply blessed his good luck of having met Sir Edward Howe. Apparently the old man had bought a villa on the hillside of Funchal and now spent most of the year on Madeira while eleven years earlier, when Laurence and Temeraire had met him here, he had only been here for a few weeks for a spa cure.

Barely had the _Lucinda_ put in port when Sir Edward had hurried down the steps leading to the quay, waving his arms and shouting Temeraire's name although the dragon had not swum into the port but had stayed out on the waters on Laurence's orders. Laurence had not wanted Temeraire to scare the people of Funchal by bringing a dragon into their midst, but some had got quite jittery even like this, spotting Temeraire at a mile's distance.

Sir Edward had seemed quite surprised to find Laurence as the captain of the ship, but once he had heard their predicament, he had immediately offered his help and escorted Laurence to the local magistrate, and once the _Lucinda_ and her crew had been handed over to the authorities, he had insisted that Laurence and the rest of the aviators accept his invitation to his villa.

"You, my friend, need dry clothes and a warm bed, so send one of your officers out with a boat to retrieve Temeraire," Sir Edward had told Laurence on their way from the magistrate's house, grabbing him by the arm and practically dragging him along the quay, back to the anchored _Lucinda _to fetch the rest of the aviators.

"You are very kind, Sir Edward," Laurence had said through chattering teeth, "but we really do not wish to impose, we could as easily get rooms in a hotel–"

This was what Sir Edward had refused outright, and Laurence had had no other choice but to accept the invitation and send Emily and two midwingmen out with a local fisherman to fetch Temeraire. Luckily the fisherman had seemed to be as unafraid of dragons as Fernao, Laurence's one-time servant on Madeira had been.

o

Sir Edward's villa was fairly large and could easily house all thirty-two of Temeraire's crew while Temeraire had just enough space to be comfortable in the gardens. The injured Sipho had been placed into a room on the ground-floor and Dorset had moved into the adjacent room with the hatchling, intent on keeping an eye on the little one all the time.

Though Laurence had not expected to get into bed any sooner than three hours after putting into port, thanks to the old man's kindness, he was safely tucked under warm covers in less than two, but only after he had taken a hot bath, courtesy of Sir Edward's housekeeper, Mrs. Lockhart. He had nearly fallen asleep when someone knocked on his door.

"I am sorry to wake you, sir," a balding man of about fifty years poked his head through the door. "I am Doctor Almeida. Sir Edward called for me to make sure your lieutenant had been properly patched up on the ship. Sir Edward also told me you had spent several hours in wet clothes. I would like to examine you too, if you do not mind."

"Er... a moment, doctor," Laurence sighed and pulled an extremely loose dressing gown on himself, one that Sir Edward had pressed upon him as he currently had no dry clothes at all.

"You have a slight fever," the doctor said after a short examination, "but your lungs seem to be in order. Sir Edward asked me to come back and check up on the young lieutenant every day, and I shall check up on you too. In case you have contracted an inflammation, it will not show itself for another few days. But let us hope for the best. Good night, Captain, and make sure you rest a lot."

"Er... good night, doctor. And thank you very much."

After the doctor's visit Laurence found it hard to fall asleep. As they say, sometimes it is the hardest to fall asleep when you are very tired – you are simply too tired to sleep. He had heard his mother complain about this just enough times, and he had always said it must have been a joke: not being able to sleep when tired? But now that he experienced it himself he realised she had been right, and also realised that such things must come with age. He was not getting any younger, and the previous day's hardships had definitely worn him out.

He finally managed to drift off in the wee hours of morning, but even in his sleep he kept tossing and turning, his debates with Emily aboard the _Lucinda_ finding their way into his dormant mind. During his sleep only his subconscious was working, but even his subconscious regarded her near refusal to obey his commands scandalising. Scandalising, but exciting and exhilarating at the same time.

The first thing he registered in the morning was the rattling of the rain on the roof. He remembered having heard that winter, especially January was the wettest time of the year on Madeira, but he had secretly hoped for a little warmth and sunshine to welcome him here. So far nothing on this mission had worked out the way he had imagined it. He had only managed to seize the _Lucinda _through risking the lives of his whole crew, and he had not managed to deliver the egg to England unharmed, and he could not even be sure if he would be able to deliver the hatchling alive. Sipho was probably still fighting for his life, as for Emily... having to fight the woman he loved above all had undoubtedly been the worst part of it all.

Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes and was more than surprised to find Emily sitting at his bedside.

"Hi," she whispered as she saw him wake, "I thought you'd never wake up, you've slept through the morning and half of the afternoon."

"So... it is not morning?" he squinted, stifling a yawn.

"No, we're past our five o'clock tea, actually," she chuckled. "Sir Edward is a real gentleman, he invited all of the crew for tea, but we did not want to disturb you, you slept so soundly."

"How long... how long have you been sitting here?" he croaked, his vocal cords still not functioning properly.

"Oh, I've spent about five hours here, but with breaks," she shrugged. "Otherwise the others would have become way too suspicious..."

"Not that they have _any _reason for suspicion... do they?" Laurence said, a lump rising in his throat.

"No, I think not," she sighed, and he had a nasty – or perhaps not completely nasty – feeling that she had been disappointed by the answer she had needed to give. That she would have liked to oppose him. To give the crew a reason for suspicion. But it could not and should not be done. They could not afford it.

"But you must admit," Emily carried on with a hint of accusation, "that it must have been at least a bit suspicious for them when you insisted on exchanging yourself me; and tell you what, it was the most stupidly heroic thing I have ever seen from you! You could have got yourself killed!"

"You could have got yourself killed too, had I not acted the way I did!" he sat up suddenly, only to slump back onto his pillow, overpowered by dizziness. "Besides," he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut against the room madly swinging around him, "you too acted in a stupidly heroic way when you insisted on going on deck in the first place, and then, when you refused to leave me alone on deck with the sailors–"

"Can't a woman be worried about her lover?" she snapped.

"I am not your lover, Emily!" he groaned.

"But you were once," she said in a small voice. "And apparently you could not forget that when you acted the hero on the ship... just like I could not forget it when I acted the heroine for you. Whatever happened, Will... we can never forget it. And I do not even want to forget it. I want to remember every kiss we shared and every caress..." she reached out and ran a hand down the side of his face. "You have a fever."

"I do not," he shook his head, but, just to contradict his words, his blood started boiling at her touch.

"Yes, you do," she muttered in a worried voice, her hand slipping from his face to his neck, as though she were only feeling the temperature of his skin, then, to his half-covered chest, as though she were checking his heart-beat. It seemed innocent enough, but Laurence knew it was anything but. By now he was having a hard time breathing evenly, but he tried to calm himself through sheer willpower. With not much success.

"Or... perhaps you are just feverish... from desire?" she suggested with an impish glint in her eyes.

"N...no, of... of course not," he stammered, "I have a natural fever. From the cold."

"You seem to contradict your own words of just ten seconds ago," she said with an amused smile, "besides... a natural cold does not raise your covers by about seven inches down there," her eyes shifted lower on his body, and he was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he was not wearing a thing under the quilt.

"E... Emily, pray leave me alone... and do not come back... unless you wish to talk about duty." He had intended his voice to sound peremptory, but it came out timid and weak instead.

"As you wish, Captain," she rose from the bedside. "Are you sure you do not want a late five o'clock tea? I could send someone up with it... or perhaps you need a few minutes alone to... cool down?"

Blushing worse than ever, he could not help but wonder why Emily had just acted the way she had. In Dover she had been avoiding him after their unfortunate night together, and now...? This woman was a mystery that he had no hope of ever solving.

"Wait," he called after her as she opened the door to leave. "How are Sipho and the dragonet doing?"

"Weak, but Dorset and Doctor Almeida are hopeful. I shall wait a bit, then send up one of the runners with something to eat. And should you need me, I am in the adjacent room, Sir," she inclined her head, half-respectfully, half-mockingly, then stepped out and closed the door. Laurence stared at the door in shock, his heart beating in a frantic rhythm. He was angry with himself. Unbelievably angry. Just a few light caresses, and he had caught fire! He should have had more self-restraint than that!

"O God," he muttered, "why do you make me suffer so much?"

The fact that she had said she lived in the neighbouring room had not even sunk in yet.

oOo

Emily did not know how long she had been sitting in her room, staring out into the rain, tears running down her cheeks. She did not understand why she had acted the way she had, why she had dallied with him when she had known it was forbidden – all she knew was that every fibre of her being longed for him, for his touch, his kiss – for things that were forbidden for her now, but would be even more forbidden in a couple of weeks once she was married to John Granby.

Just thinking of how her touch had affected him lit a fire in the pit of her stomach, and she felt like screaming with frustration.

Sir Edward had insisted on giving the captain and the first lieutenant his two best guest rooms that happened to be situated right next to each other, so Laurence was just a few metres away from her, with one single wall separating them, yet he felt completely out of her reach. The way he had sent her away, 'do not come back unless you wish to talk about duty', tore at her heart, but Emily knew he had only done it to save both of them from further suffering.

Yes, she saw the reason in his acts, and she knew she herself was doing the reasonable thing in marrying Granby and distancing herself from Laurence through her marriage, but something deep down told her they were both about to ruin their lives. With their love and lust for one another they were committing a sin against God, but in suppressing their feelings, they sinned against each other. And she could not decide which option was worse.

o

Days went by, the rain ceased for only short periods of time, and Emily only visited her captain for a few minutes every day to report to him about Sipho and the hatchling's condition. Laurence himself was in a poor shape, but according to Doctor Almeida, he had no inflammation at least, only a particularly nasty cold.

Temeraire proved patient enough despite not having a chance to meet his sick captain and despite the never-ceasing rain from which Sir Edward could offer him no shelter. He only complained about boredom, so once in a while Emily borrowed some of Sir Edward's books and Mrs. Lockhart's umbrella and read out to Temeraire. It was usually the dragon who nudged her to leave his side and return to the building, saying he did not want her to catch a cold either. Temeraire, however, never asked a single question about the dragonet, as though he were deliberate to forget she existed at all.

A whole week had passed since their arrival on Madeira when the clouds finally dispersed. Emily gave the crew leave to enjoy this long-awaited sunny day, and persuaded even Dorset to take a walk and leave the dragonet in her care.

She was busying herself with feeding the little one from a nursing bottle when there was a knock on the door-frame. Looking up, she spotted her captain standing in the open door, a curious, half-dazed, half-affectionate look on his face.

"I am not disturbing?" he asked, his complexion still a bit pale, but he seemed healthy enough already.

"No," she shrugged, averting her glance from him, hoping to silently transfer the message that she wanted to devote all her attention to the hatchling. "Hey, careful, little one," she cooed as the dragonet burped and some of the blood splattered on the oilskin material they had covered Sir Edward's expensive carpet with.

"You know... I think you are going to be a wonderful mother some day," Laurence said.

"What?" she looked up, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks.

"The way you feed her," Laurence glanced at the dragonet, "it is just... heart-warming. John is a lucky fellow to have you as the mother of his future children."

"Captain, please..."

"Call me William," he said, stepping closer. "Sir Edward and Mrs. Lockhart are in the garden, and from the balcony I have seen the crew leave, I expect you have given them a day off, so there is no one here to overhear us... besides her," he pointed at the little dragon. "But does she understand English at all?"

"We are not sure," Emily shrugged. "Sometimes she seems to react if we speak to her, but perhaps only reacts to our cadence or our gestures… we don't know if she understands our words or not. She definitely never replies. Dorset says her vocal cords may not have fully developed yet... or she might have another reason for not speaking, though we can't imagine what."

"I see..." Laurence frowned, closing the door behind him. "Emily... I am sorry about the way I treated you the other day."

"Never mind," she shook her head, putting down the emptied nursing battle and running her hands down the little creature's neck, as though the dragonet were someone for whom she could openly show affection; a substitute for the person she truly wanted to love and caress. "I have already forgotten it."

"Well... I have not. Especially not when I realised our rooms were next to each other and that we shared a balcony..."

"I have kept my door to the balcony closed," she replied, her eyes fixed upon the dragonet's sleek back. "I have kept myself locked away from you, as you expected me to."

"I have noticed," he sighed, crouching down next to her and reaching out to pet the hatchling. "Thank you for... respecting my feelings."

"How could I not?" she snorted. "Your feelings are the same as mine, after all."

"I know they are," he said in a small voice, and his fingers accidentally touched hers on the dragonet's neck. She felt like a flash of lightning had struck her, spreading from her fingertip, setting her whole body on fire. She yanked her hand back and hastily rose to her feet.

"I am sorry," he stood up as well, "I have just come to tell you that Sir Edward offered to show me the town of Funchal. I told him I have been here a few times, but when he asked if I had ever visited the local cathedral or his favourite café, I was forced to admit that I never have. He would like you to come along as well, so we have an invitation for sightseeing. Do you care to join us?"

"Who would take care of the baby dragon then?"

"I believe we could entrust Temeraire with the task," Laurence said with a small smile. "Before we arrived to Funchal, I made him promise he would be nice to her, and it is time for him to keep his promise. Besides, I think the little one could use some sunshine."

"Not that she would ever get a nice tan," Emily said with a grin.

"No, I doubt if she ever would," Laurence grinned back, then bent to lift the dragonet to his shoulder. For a one-week-old creature, she was barely bigger than Temeraire had been upon hatching, and weighed probably less than Temeraire ever had.

"Oh, Emily," Laurence said over his shoulder, "I believe it would be wise for you to wear female clothes for our sightseeing trip. I have already asked Mrs. Lockhart, she said she could lend you some."

"What?" she gasped. "Do you expect me to wear a sixty-year-old lady's things? Those are all grey and black and look horribly old-fashioned!"

"I never knew you cared about fashion," he flashed her with an impish smile.

"Well, I do not," she huffed, "but still, I am twenty-one! People would only laugh at me if I wore an old lady's things!"

"Actually, Mrs. Lockhart has a daughter of thirty who spends a few weeks here every year with her husband. She intended to lend you one of her daughter's clothes."

"Oh," Emily breathed, "why didn't you say so right away?"

"I was just interested in your reaction."

"William!" she smacked him on the arm. "That is not funny!"

"Sorry," he sent her an apologetic smile and headed for the door. "I never had a little sister to tease. And now that I do... I must admit it is fun teasing you."

"I shall check on Sipho," she said, sending him a withering glance. "If he feels up to it, we could perhaps move him out to Temeraire's side as well. Some sunshine would only do him good."

"Great idea," Laurence nodded, walking down the corridor with the little dragon in his arms. Emily stared at his back, fuming, wanting to punch him again and again, but not for teasing her, rather for reminding her that they were brother and sister. For this was what she most hated being reminded of.

oOo

Temeraire was not in the least happy about the prospect of having to play the nursemaid for his little second cousin, but Laurence had made such puppy eyes at him when placing the hatchling onto his foreleg that he had not been able to say no. And perhaps it was not going to be such a horrible thing, taking care of her; as long as she stayed put, he could pretend she was not there at all.

Things only changed after Laurence and the gardener had brought Sipho down to Temeraire on a stretcher and placed him gently on a makeshift bed made of an oilskin sheet and several blankets.

Sipho already looked much better than he had upon being shot, the healthy dark colour had returned to his cheeks that had looked almost ashen just a week earlier, and he seemingly enjoyed the sunshine.

"You are doing better, are you not?" Temeraire said, just to say something. He was once again getting extremely bored in Laurence's absence.

"Yes, thank you," the boy nodded, "but how is the hatchling doing?"

"Oh, I do not know, she does not say a thing…"

"Does she hear us at all?" Sipho rose to his elbows, giving the dragonet a curious glance.

As if she had heard them, she opened her dark blue eyes, and even Temeraire was surprised by their colour, and even more surprised by the intelligence glinting in them. "Of course I can," she said in a small but determined voice.

"So you _can_ speak! Then why haven't you talked yet?" Sipho asked. "Everyone thought you were mute!"

"I am not, they just have not said anything interesting that I wanted to reply to," she said, "besides, I was really so very weak at first that I could not speak. But I am doing better, and since you are a dragon also, I am willing to talk to _you_. Where exactly are we, huh?" she looked around. "I heard it was Funchal, but _where _is Funchal?"

"Well, it is on Madeira," Sipho replied helpfully.

"Madeira," the little dragon sighed. "That is such a pretty name! I wish I had a pretty name like that… but I do not have a name at all! Would you please call me Madeira?"

"I… er… well, I am not sure if I may give you a name…" Sipho said insecurely. "Only your future captain may."

"Well, you need not give me a name, as I have just given myself one. Besides, can you not be my future captain?" the hatchling cocked her head and gave the boy a searching stare.

"Me? Your captain?" Sipho's eyes widened and he sat up, but this sudden move must have caused him pain because he let out a hiss. Pressing his hand to his bandaged chest, he muttered, "I'd love to… but it's not me who decides about that."

"Yes, it's _me_," the dragonet drew herself up, rising into a sitting position on Temeraire's foreleg. In this posture she dangerously resembled her mother, even without the ruff and even though she was barely the size of a large dog. "I want you to be my captain, and I want to be called Madeira. Do you think it can be arranged?" she looked up at Temeraire now.

"Firstly, Sipho belongs to _my_ crew," Temeraire bristled, "secondly…"

"Can or cannot? Just reply to my question… please!" she said a little angrily.

Taken aback by the hatchling's cheek paired with a clumsy attempt at politeness, Temeraire gave her a glance he intended to be chiding, but he realised that he could not really treat this mini-Lien the same way he had treated Iskierka. He could not look at her like a tutor does on his pupil, not really. "Well…" he cleared his throat, "there have been examples of a dragon choosing his or her captain, and I have seen one name herself without asking her captain's opinion…"

"Great, I am Madeira then," the dragonet sighed contentedly, slipping into the crook of Temeraire's foreleg and curling her white tail around herself. "I will let you harness me once you are healed, Sipho. I see you are not strong enough for such things yet. Come to think of it," she yawned, "I am not either. Let us sleep now, shall we, Captain?"

As he looked down at this tiny creature nestled into the crook of his foreleg, Temeraire felt engulfed with something he had never really felt for the freshly hatched Iskierka. Paternal feelings. Little Madeira here seemed much more vulnerable than Iskierka ever had, but she was not nearly as unpleasant as Iskierka had been. True, she had apparently inherited some of her mother's self-assurance and haughtiness, but there was some timidity hidden behind it all, which made her almost endearing.

"Sipho…" Madeira muttered, half-asleep, "you too have a pretty name. And you too, Temeraire."

"Er… thank you. How do you know my name?" Temeraire blinked. He had never introduced himself…

"Oh, I have heard people talk about you a lot."

"Have you?" Temeraire asked, feeling some sort of pride at his importance.

"Yes, as I have heard everything else as well that your crew talked around me… for example that your first lieutenant is your captain's sister. What does it mean, to be someone's sister?"

Sipho's jaw dropped and for a moment Temeraire did not know what to say. "Oh, no," he breathed. "Why can those two never keep their mouths shut?"

"Does that mean… it is true?" Sipho frowned.

Temeraire heaved a sigh. "Yes, but no one may find out. Do you promise me that?"

"Yes, I do. But… they do not even resemble each other… and Temeraire… if they are siblings… how come they're in love?"

For a long moment Temeraire stared at his third lieutenant as though he had suddenly grown a second head. "In… in love? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I thought it was pretty obvious," Sipho said matter-of-factly. "They have been smitten with each other for years, I think. At least… I thought they were. But if they are siblings… I might have been wrong."

"I have not the slightest idea what you two are talking about," Madeira said in a plaintive tone, "but I am so very tired. Let us sleep at last, and we can discuss these things later!"

Temeraire did not remember when he had last obeyed anyone's request as gladly as he did now. "Yes, let us sleep. Sipho, pray follow suit."

"_Captain_ Sipho, that's his new title," Madeira reminded him, her eyes already shut.

Sipho sent Temeraire an apologetic grin that was not fully apologetic – no, it was rather proud and mischievous. Hundreds of people in the Corps would kill to become captains, and the little tyke had got himself a dragon without even trying.

Well, of one thing Temeraire was absolutely sure: a black boy on a white dragon would be a spectacle.

oOo

"Why not be a gentleman and offer the lady your arm?" Sir Edward asked with a playful glint in his eyes as the three of them exited through the garden gates. "You can't expect this charming young lady to walk with an old codger like me, can you?"

"Er… you are not old at all, Sir Edward," Laurence reddened and held out his right arm to Emily who took it with an equally flushed face. He had intended on avoiding all bodily contact with her if possible, but in the circumstances it was unavoidable. "Sir Edward," he cleared his throat, "I can never truly thank you enough for your kindness…"

"What are you talking about, my friend?" the old man sent him a jovial smile.

"You know that exactly, Sir. You have taken us in and have not accepted payment in return. You have sent for your physician to look after Sipho and me. And you did it all when you are, I am sure, fully aware of my status of…"

"Convicted traitor?" Sir Edward offered. "Yes, Captain, I am aware of that. And I must say, I am damn proud of what you did for the world's dragon population. I cannot say I am happy about the effects it had on our beloved homeland, but… you had to choose from two evils and you chose what you regarded as the smaller."

"I am no longer sure it truly was the smaller," Laurence shook his head.

"Neither am I, but you did what you thought best in the circumstances. And for that, I respect you," the old man replied. "And I am delighted to hear that some of your old crew remained faithful to you even after that unfortunate incident, like young Sipho, and of course, this charming young lady on your arm." He bowed slightly in Emily's direction.

"But how do you know…?"

"I told him about it," Emily said with a small smile. "Sir Edward was interested in everything that happened to you and Temeraire since you two had last met, and I have told him everything I could."

Soon they arrived into town and Sir Edward began his work as their guide. Their first stop was the old man's favourite café where Laurence, to his surprise, learned that Emily was a die-hard hot chocolate drinker, something he had never imagined about her. As he watched her sip at the sweet dark liquid with as much delight as he had never seen anyone drink anything, he began sweating profusely as though it had been him who had drunk hot chocolate, not her. It was the appearance of an elderly lady outside who saved him from getting into a thoroughly awkward situation.

"Excuse me for a moment, please," Sir Edward practically hopped from his seat, "I shall be back right away."

"Wow, that was fast for his age. Do you think that woman is his… girlfriend?" Emily whispered across the table, absent-mindedly toying with her emptied cup.

"I do not know… but why not? Age does not matter if you are in love…"

"No, it really does not," she said, leaning a little closer, her eyes boring deeply into his.

Feeling his breeches getting unpleasantly tight and thankful for having chosen a seat in the darkest corner of the café, Laurence merely nodded, unable to utter a single word.

"You are sweating," she whispered, put down her cup and reached out with her napkin to touch it to his temple. He shuddered at the touch, coldness and warmth running up and down his body at the same time. He knew if they were not in a crowded café but completely alone, he would yank her to himself and kiss her senseless. Probably take her atop this very table.

Screwing his eyes shut against the sinful thoughts, he slipped his chair as far from the table as possible, seeking refuge in his little corner.

"William, are you all right?" she asked.

"Uh… yes, why?"

"Just because… Why are you looking at me so oddly?"

"Er… you have chocolate on your face."

"Do I? Where?"

Laurence reluctantly pushed his chair closer to the table again, and with shaking hands, took his own napkin and gently dabbed at the right corner of her lips. "There. It is gone." He dropped his hands into his lap and cast his eyes down, as though he were mesmerised by his own half-drunk coffee. He inhaled the familiar, strong scent, and slowly but surely managed to calm down.

Soon Sir Edward returned to them, bringing with him the lady he had spotted outside. "Dear Mrs. Cartwright, let me introduce to you Miss Emily Roland and Captain Laurence."

"Pleased to meet you," the elderly lady said with a smile. As Laurence bowed and Emily made a slightly clumsy curtsey, she carried on, "Are you here together, Captain? You and the young lady?"

Laurence knew there was barely hidden insinuation in the question, but Sir Edward was quick to answer, "Captain Laurence is Miss Roland's guardian."

"Oh, is he? Charming."

"What about continuing our trip?" Sir Edward suggested. "I still would like to show you our cathedral, built in the 15th century. Roman Catholic, of course, but since we have no Anglican one yet, it is where I go on Sundays. This way, please."

The Sé Cathedral with its dark walls was an imposing building, but even if it had only been a tiny chapel, Laurence still would have felt uneasy about entering. He felt dirty, simply too guilty to enter a sacred place and sully it with his presence. But he knew he could not make up an excuse to stay outside, and Sir Edward was so enthusiastic about showing them the church that Laurence could not find it in his heart to refuse him the chance.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he let Emily steer him inside in Sir Edward and Mrs. Cartwright's wake, and once they walked through the front door, Laurence felt as though he had left the real world behind and entered another; a world that shut out the noises of carriages rattling on the cobblestones, a world that consisted only of filtered light and frankincense.

"It does have a special feeling, does it not?" Sir Edward whispered to Laurence who politely nodded.

The elderly man and woman took a place in a pew, but when Laurence wanted to follow them into the same pew, Emily tugged at his arm and muttered, "They might want to have that pew just to themselves, don't you think?"

"Emily, a church is no place for an assignation," he whispered back, slightly scandalised by her suggestion. She just shrugged and took a place in a pew several rows behind the old couple. Laurence sat down next to her, although not _quite_ next to her, keeping a respectful distance.

The church was fairly dark inside, its windows not letting enough light enter, but it gave the place a romantic air – bluish white streaks of light broke the darkness of the interior, illuminating various statues of saints here and there and painting perfectly parallel lines on the floor.

Everything was utterly peaceful in here, but Laurence felt that even the peace he almost felt now was a stolen kind of peace, something he did not deserve. His soul deserved to burn in hell for having sinned with his sister; it deserved to find no rest, not in this world, not even in the one that existed after death.

_God, why have you allowed me to fall in love with her? _he wondered, his eyes fixed upon the dark silhouette of the altar. _And her to fall in love with me? You knew it all along that she was my half-sister! You could have prevented it if you had wanted to… Is this my punishment for my treason, to suffer like this? But what about Emily? She has not betrayed her homeland, she is innocent, she does not deserve to suffer the same fate as I do! O God, even if you do not save me from this sinful love, save her at least. Let her fall in love with John and be happy with him! My happiness does not matter, but hers… hers does._

Suddenly he felt a light touch on his left hand and looked in her direction. She must have slipped closer to him without him noticing, and as her hand rested on his, her eyes radiated the message, 'I know what you are thinking.' And he knew she was thinking the same.

At this moment, with their glances linked, he felt all what he had thought and prayed for just a minute ago completely unrealistic. The hope she could ever fall out of love with him seemed like a dream never to come true; the only thing that truly existed was the love burning in her eyes. And he finally accepted that he was fighting a battle in vain. God was not helping them.

His mother used to say that God never did anything without a reason, and Laurence tried to believe it, but this once he did not manage. What purpose could the Almighty have with them, a brother and a sister loving each other in a way they must not?

He averted his eyes and slipped his hand from under hers, clasping it with his right hand in his lap, as though he were deep in prayer. But the truth was that he could not pray anymore. God had apparently abandoned them.

oOo

Four weeks had passed since they had arrived on Madeira, the dragonet had started to eat meat instead of just slurping blood, and finally Dorset deemed her strong enough to be taken on a longer journey. Little Madeira would have liked to fly herself, but Dorset had insisted she was too weak for that, not to mention that the Corps was not going to allow her to fly without a harness. So far the dragonet had only taken tiny circles around Temeraire's head, Temeraire making sure she would not go any higher than she should, and when the surgeon mentioned the lack of harness, she immediately replied, "Let us do it, then. I want my Sipho to put it on me."

Although Laurence found the idea of a young black boy commanding an invaluable dragon as a Celestial-Grand Chevalier crossbreed a little unusual, he had no intention of raising an objection. The dragonet had chosen Sipho, just like Temeraire had chosen him, and he did not like to imagine what would have happened to Temeraire had he been forced to accept another man as his captain. Very likely his dragon would never have been happy under the captaincy of someone else, and well, perhaps _he_ would not have been happy without his Celestial either. Naturally this was a 'what if' question, the sort Laurence never liked to think about; after all, dwelling on 'what if's was for dreamers, and he, albeit sentimental at times, liked to pride himself on being a realist when necessary.

A 'what if' for Laurence would have very likely involved sooner or later becoming captain of a first-rate ship-of-the-line and founding a family with Edith Galman. Now both ideas seemed bleak to him. As Temeraire had once put it: a ship could not talk and love like a dragon could, and Edith, Laurence was sure, had never loved him as much as Emily did.

Even with the treason leaving him marked for the rest of his life and with his heart stolen by a woman he was never meant to have, he believed he was luckier than he could have been, had he remained captain of the _Reliant_ eleven years earlier. He would not give up Temeraire's love and devotion for any honour and respect in the Navy, nor would he give up the love he had seen in Emily's eyes in the church for a thousand Edith Galmans.

As he witnessed the harnessing of little Madeira – now not so little anymore, rather the size of a small elephant but according to Dorset, still under-developed – Laurence could not help noticing the proud glint in Temeraire's eyes. His dragon had, despite all initial refusal, grown fond of his little cousin, and through her, made his peace with Lien's memory.

Laurence could only hope Jane Roland would not raise objections and would confirm Captain Sipho in his new position. Although the boy at the age of fifteen was very young to be a captain, he had all the vocation and talent to become one of the greatest.

A few hours later when he had finished packing his things for their departure the following day, Laurence heard Sipho and Madeira's laughter mingling with Temeraire's roaring guffaw down in the gardens. Since it was the 15th February, it was still getting dark quite early, but the laughter attracted Laurence to the balcony, and for a few minutes he watched with almost childish delight as his one-time officer made flip-flops in the air on his dragon's back. Sipho had lit a small fire next to Temeraire's place and the flames illuminated them just enough for Madeira's snow white skin to shine out of the darkness.

"They are so cute, aren't they?" Laurence heard a voice from behind his back.

"Yes, they are," he said. "I hope your mother will not object to making Sipho an official captain…"

"I doubt if she will," Emily replied, stepping next to him and propping her elbows on the balustrade. "She understands it if two persons belong together." She paused for a moment, then went on, "She would not have opposed to us, you know… had we not been…"

"I know," he replied hastily, cutting short her sentence that he knew would have ended with 'siblings'. He hated to hear that word, just like the words 'brother' and 'sister'.

"Will… I have kept away from you these past weeks, even after our sightseeing tour," Emily said, her eyes fixed upon the laughing youngsters below. "I trust you have noticed?"

"Yes," he sighed, "and I must admit you relieved me. Sometimes… sometimes I wished I had found your balcony door open, but whenever I saw it was closed, I felt relieved."

"Relieved… but also a bit sad?"

He hung his head. "Of course also a bit sad."

"Well… my door is open now."

He looked up, and although he could not see much of her features in the darkness, he believed he saw a challenging and longing glint in her eyes. "Emily… you know I would love to… but we may not."

"I know it is sin, Will, but I am getting married in eleven days, and after that, it would be an even greater sin. I will not be unfaithful to John once I am wed to him. This is our last chance. I want you. I love you."

He swallowed, feeling his whole body shiver, although he was sure it was not due to the evening chill. "One night… only?"

"One night only. And never again."

He grabbed the edge of the balustrade, as though he was trying to channel all his frustration into it, but he knew it was a battle in vain. Every fibre of his being wanted her, both his body and soul yearned for her touch, and for the first time, it was his soul that ached for her closeness more than his body did. "Would you… would you not regret it later?"

"Never. I never regretted that night either," she said, "I only wished I had remembered more of it. I know _you_ regretted it, but I never truly did."

"I did regret it… but not as much as I should have," Laurence admitted. "I regretted committing a sin with my sister… I regretted stealing your innocence when it was meant for John… but I mostly regretted not having been as gentle and caring with you as you deserved. I am so ashamed of that, Emily."

She reached out and took his hand. "Don't be… just make up for it now. Show me all the gentleness you did not show that night."

His hand in hers was visibly shaking. "I… I also regretted throwing caution to the winds, Emily. I do not want to be that careless again. I do not want to get you in trouble."

She stepped closer, their hands sandwiched between their bodies, and her breath was warm on his cheeks as she muttered, "I can't get into trouble. Pray stop always worrying about me."

With a last attempt at keeping themselves from doing something unforgivably wrong, he replied, his voice hoarse with both fear and desire, "I am your captain and your brother, Emily. In both roles it is my duty to worry about you."

"Then just for one night, do not be my captain, and especially not my brother," she whispered. "Just be the man who loves me. That is all I need." She gently brushed her lips to his. The kiss was short and chaste, not passionate enough for him to lose his mind. Not yet, anyway.

"A… are you sure you cannot get into trouble?" he gulped, his lips still tingling from the feather-light kiss.

"Absolutely. I have just checked the calendar."

"Have… have you?" his mind reeled. She had been planning this… to sin with him… _again_. But could it be called a sin between two people who loved each other as desperately as they did? Perhaps not. Between them it could no longer be called a sin. It was the expression of their love for one another. And she was practically begging him to make love to her. Could he deny it to her?

No, he decided. He could not.

"Yes," she chuckled, rubbing her pelvis against his. "What do you say, William?"

"Just one thing," he breathed, his heart frantically beating in his chest, "your room or mine?"

oOo

**A/N: well, Laurence is being naughty. Even he needs to... once in a while. ;)**

**Please, review!**


	14. Sense and Sensibility

**A/N: thanks to **_**Nimbus Llewelyn, Polyarny, Radishgirl36, LittleHogwartsGirl**_** and **_**Anna Scathach**_** for reviewing the previous chapter.**

**Chapter 14**

**Sense and Sensibility**

Emily awoke to the sunshine filtering into her room. It felt unusually warm for coming through a windowpane, and opening her eyes, she understood why: the glass door to the balcony was open and the sun-rays directly touched her face. For a second she wondered if she had left the door open last night, then she spotted the form of a man standing outside by the rail with his back turned on her, and the events of the previous night came rushing back.

Every kiss, every caress, every whispered 'I love you' had filled her with a joy unknown before but with an unknown sort of ache at the same time. It had been bliss that was never to happen again, at least, definitely not between the two of them. And Emily was sure she would never feel that way in her future husband's arms.

At the thought of her impending wedding, she shuddered and wrapped the covers tighter around herself. She felt ashamed of her reaction to the idea of John touching her the same way William had, and she could not help but wonder – and fear – if John would notice her discomfort either on their wedding night, or somewhat later. After all, she had never been particularly talented in acting. She had never really managed to hide her feelings.

_I mustn't think about this, at least, not yet, not now_, she chided herself, slipping from under the quilt and beginning to search for her clothes, some of which she found in the most impossible places, like thrown under the cupboard or, in the case of her stockings, hanging from the chandelier.

_No, the night might be over, but the morning is still ours_. Running her fingers deftly across her dishevelled locks she checked in the mirror if every piece of her attire was in place, then stepped out onto the balcony. A true spring wonderland awaited her outside: pleasant warmth, the air filled with the fresh scent of flowers and the sea, and birds singing in the trees. Not for nothing was Madeira called the 'Island of Eternal Spring', Emily decided. And despite the spring idyll, she felt as though dark clouds had settled on her mind and a chilly autumn wind had swept across the balcony, freezing her inside.

"William?" she said in a small voice as she stepped next to him. She had a feeling of déjà vu; she had joined him on this very balcony just a few hours earlier in the hope of gaining a fleeting sense of happiness and the illusion of owning him, even if only briefly. Now she had no hopes for happiness, not even for a short-lived one, and she knew she would never have a chance to claim him as hers.

He turned his head to look at her, but his body he did not: from neck down he seemed like a statue, rigid and unmoving. She was forced to remember how passionate he had been last night, yet how gentle, the complete opposite of what he looked like now. They had made love into the wee hours of morning until exhaustion had overpowered them, and his last words to her had been, 'I shall never have another after you, Emily. No one. Ever.' And she had believed every word of it.

Now as he glanced at her, even his face seemed to have been carved of stone, his features not revealing any sort of emotion – it was only his eyes that shone with a sadness almost palpable. "Good morning, Emily," he said. "I trust you slept well?"

"I slept perfectly, but did not get much rest," she replied with a crooked smile. "Someone did not give me enough time to sleep."

"Oh, really? That must have been very ungallant of him," he said in an impassive tone, turning his face from her to stare down at the gardens.

"I'd say it was very gallant of him. He fulfilled my wildest dreams, and more. I am grateful to him for that. For showing me what love really is, for I doubt if I will ever have a chance to feel it again."

"Emily, please…"

"I am sorry, Will," she breathed. "I am just making you even more wretched by mentioning how wretched _I_ feel. Forgive me for that."

"There is nothing to forgive," he replied, his eyes still fixed upon the gardens, or perhaps beyond that, upon the sea. "I am sure John will not disappoint you. Pray give him a chance."

"I will… and so should you. I mean, give _someone_ a chance."

He shook his head, his eyes still not meeting hers. "I do not think I could. And I do not even want to."

"But… what of Temeraire? You almost managed to give him a future captain. You could try again."

"Pray drop the topic, Emily. I do not want to talk about it."

"Fine," she sighed, stepping a little closer and covering his right hand that was resting on the balustrade with her left one. "I will miss you."

"You will forget about me. Once I am reassigned."

Her heart sank. She had almost forgotten he had requested to be placed into another covert. But perhaps it would be better like this. She did not think she could bear seeing him every day and be reminded how much she loved him while she had to endure the hugs and kisses of someone else. She could not bear to meet him again and again when expecting John Granby's child and thinking how much more she would have liked to have _his_ instead.

She sniffed and blinked back a tear. "I shall try to forget you. _Try. _That is all I can promise."

"That is just enough to make me happy," he said in a voice as unhappy as possible and slipped his hand from under hers. "The crew is gathering. I suggest you have breakfast quickly, then we must be off. You have a wedding to get to, after all."

"Not like _you_ did not have to get to it," she said with a grimace. "You are the best man, after all…"

"Some _best _man I am," he snorted. "_Worst_, I would say. I have betrayed John's trust and friendship in every way possible. But if I managed to make you happy, even only for a few hours... then it was worth it." He let out a small, cold laugh. "A couple of years ago I would not have thought I would ever talk like this... about friendship, and trust... and love."

"I have corrupted you, haven't I?" she muttered.

"I could not have been corrupted had I not been willing. We both corrupted each other, Emily." Finally he turned away from the balustrade to face her completely, and reached out to run a hand down the side of her face. "Funny... I should regret it. But I do not." For a long moment their eyes bore into each other's, then he withdrew his hand and stepped away from her. "Start packing, Lieutenant Roland."

"Aye, Sir," she nodded. She would never call him William again, and very likely he would never call her Emily again.

Heartbroken, she returned to her room to pack her belongings.

oOo

_Covert of Dover, 24__th__ February, 1816_

"You have arrived just in time," Jane Roland flashed both Laurence and Emily with a warm smile as they entered her office.

"Just in time? Mother, we have two whole days left till the wedding," Emily said. "Or are we late with some of the arrangements?"

"That is not what I meant, I am sure the dear Granby has arranged everything perfectly," Jane waved her hand. "I meant that you have arrived just in time for me to tell you that I must leave in an hour. Just received an urgent letter from your father," she carried on, not looking at either Laurence or Emily – it did not matter whom she was addressing anyway, as she was talking about the same man when saying 'your father'. "He wrote that he and Wilberforce managed to get me an appointment with their Lordships in the House of Lords. Finally! The only problem is that the appointment is in the morning of the 26th. I am sorry, but I might not make it for your wedding, honey."

"But Mother!" Emily gasped. "You must be there!"

"Emily, dearest," Jane sighed, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "you know that the last thing I want is to miss my only daughter's wedding, but this is about the Corps. There is too much at stake here... and I cannot be selfish to favour my family over my duty."

"Right," Emily's lips trembled. "You have never done that anyway."

Jane suppressed another sigh. She knew she had never been the caring mother her daughter had needed; her duty had always been more important to her than maternity, but she had thought Emily had accepted that. Perhaps Emily truly had, but now, when she was about to take a really difficult step, she might have wished for her mother to be present to support her. And Jane wished she truly could.

"I shall do everything in my power to be there... but start without me if you must. I have heard that one of Granby's brothers had to ask for leave from the Army to be here... we cannot disappoint him by postponing the wedding. He can only stay a couple of hours."

"You are talking as though the groom's brother's presence were more important than that of the bride's mother," Emily said in an accusing tone. "Never mind. I have trust in you, Mother. If there is the slightest chance for you to return in time, you will make it."

"That's my girl," Jane reached out and gathered Emily into her arms. In that moment the door of her office burst open and John Granby rushed in.

Barely had Jane released her daughter when Granby caught her and hugged her, muttering, "My dearest, you have made it... I saw Temeraire touch down and had to come here at once... Oh, Emily, I was so afraid you wouldn't be back in time!" Then, probably feeling Jane's eyes on himself, he looked up and reddened. "Good Lord, Admiral, I am sorry about my entry... that was very uncouth of me."

"Apology accepted," Jane smiled, but her smile vanished upon spotting Laurence's expression. Her one-time lover was standing several steps away from the engaged couple, watching their reunion with a would-be-impassive face, but Jane could not be fooled. She knew him well enough to see beyond the mask he was wearing, and under that mask she spotted a vulnerable – even wounded – person, bleeding before her eyes.

But Laurence was not the only one in the room bleeding – so was Emily, and strangely, so was Granby. In the past few weeks Jane had seen her future son-in-law sad, almost depressed despite the wedding preparations engaging all his attention, and she had put it down to his missing Emily. Now, however, he had his fiancée back, and yet, he did not look as happy as he was supposed to. He was smiling, but there was something in that smile that disturbed Jane, and what disturbed her most was the fact that she could not put a finger on it. It was not often that she did not understand a situation, and she found it overly frustrating.

"Well, we are both happy to have the bride and the best man back, are we not?" she offered, directing Granby's attention to Laurence.

"Oh, Laurence, I am sorry, I have not even noticed you here," Granby said with a warm smile and shook his friend's hand, but even in that warm smile Jane thought she had noticed something odd.

"Hello, John," Laurence returned the smile, although his attempt at looking happy seemed even more miserable than Granby's had. "How are you doing? Fully recovered, I trust?"

"Thank you, I am fine," the younger man replied, "only wedding jitters," he winked at Emily which she pretended not to have noticed. "And I am not the only one excited around... guess what happened three days ago!"

"What?"

"Iskierka laid her egg! Temeraire is going to be a father, which means, you and I are going to be grandfathers! How does that sound?"

Laurence's lips twitched, but Jane was sure it was not because he was trying to smile but because he was trying to hide a pout. The poor fellow was very likely never going to be a father, let alone a grandfather... "Well... that is great news," he said, "I am sure Temeraire will be delighted to find out. Speaking of eggs..."

"That is exactly what I've wanted to ask you since you entered," Jane said, almost ashamed that she had allowed her thoughts to wander from the important questions of duty to personal matters, "have you brought us the egg?"

"Yes... and no," Laurence said.

"Don't tell," Jane breathed. "It has hatched, hasn't it?"

For the first time since entering her office, a true smile appeared on Laurence's face. "Yes. A prematurely hatched female dragonet. She was the reason why we had to stay on Madeira for a few weeks. Dorset would not allow us to move her for a while, she was so weak at first. Speaking of Madeira, that is her name too, she chose it herself. A rather obstinate little being, but thankfully she has loads more sense than..." his voice trailed off, as if he had suddenly realised he had almost said something he should not have.

"...than Iskierka?" Granby finished the sentence for him. For a long moment the two men looked at each other, then both of them burst out laughing. Jane felt relieved to hear them laugh – she had been worried about them.

"Yes," Laurence nodded, still grinning. "Little Madeira is stubborn, but clever."

"Reminds you of someone?" Jane arched an eyebrow at him playfully.

"Well," Laurence shrugged, "stubbornness and cleverness might run in the Celestial bloodline. Sir Edward Howe at least believes so, he was absolutely taken with the hatchling. He was our host on Madeira, we were truly in luck to have run into him..."

"That sounds lovely, Laurence... just one more question," Jane said, "who on Earth harnessed the dragonet?"

Emily and Laurence replied in unison, "Sipho did."

oOo

The following morning Laurence found Temeraire in a foul mood, and what surprised him most was that his dragon had moved back into his shabby pavilion, the one he had 'inherited' from Iskierka.

"What happened, my dear?" he patted the dragon's flank.

"Iskierka is jealous," Temeraire grunted.

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Madeira, of course. She said I was paying more attention to Madeira than to her, the mother of my egg, and when I told her that was not true, she barked at me to leave her pavilion."

Laurence's lips twitched from a barely suppressed grin. Knowing Iskierka, he had suspected something like this to happen. "Well, I am sure she is just a little more emotional than usual... you know, because she has just recently laid the egg..."

"Oh, I do not know," Temeraire shook his head, "I simply cannot figure her out. Why do females always have to be this difficult?"

"I have no idea, my dear... but if they were not this difficult... they would not be this loveable either, do you not think so?"

"Well... you might have a point," Temeraire admitted. "Is Emily difficult too? I mean... apart from the fact that you cannot be together?"

"Yes," the captain sighed, remembering her former hostility towards him, then her risking her life for him aboard the _Lucinda_, finally her request of spending one last night with him... "She is very difficult, in every respect."

"...and very loveable because of that, right?" the dragon offered.

"Right," Laurence smiled a little sadly. "But I must forget her. She is getting married tomorrow. She will never belong to me."

"Um, Laurence... I know that she belonged to you... at least twice."

The man froze. "What... what do you mean by that?"

"Emily told me. Shortly before we left Dover to catch the _Lucinda_."

"_She told you__?_"

"Well... not exactly. In fact I guessed, she just had to admit. And I am so sorry it only caused you both unhappiness, when mating always should cause only happiness, and I hope it did that night before we left Madeira..."

Laurence froze again. So that is why Temeraire had said 'at least twice'. "But... Emily could not have told you about _that_ night," he muttered, his cheeks ruby red.

"Oh, she did not need to tell me, Madeira and Sipho did."

"What?" Laurence's eyes popped. "How...? I mean... were we that loud?" He had done everything in his power to stifle his moans and Emily's as well, having learned his lesson from their first night together when Nancy had overheard everything. They could not possibly have been that noisy on Madeira...

"Loud? No, I think you must have been rather discrete," Temeraire replied. "My hearing is quite refined, and I barely heard any creaking of the bedsprings, which might as easily have come from someone's restless sleep, so you need not worry. No one else discovered what you two were doing..."

"But you said Sipho and Madeira did!"

"Well, of course they did. They were flying circles around the gardens and the building, and once they flew across your balcony and happened to catch a glimpse of you two. Sipho is no fool, he has suspected your feelings for each other for a while, and he is no child, he knew what you were doing was mating, but Madeira had no idea, so we had to explain to her."

"_Explain?_"

"Yes, and she found it quite fascinating, but never worry, she promised to keep her mouth shut, and you can count on Sipho's discretion too."

Laurence's mind reeled and he felt dizzy all of a sudden. "If this ever comes to light..."

"It will not," Temeraire said in a reassuring tone. "Sipho really likes you and respects you, and he owes you a lot. You saved him from poverty in Africa, gave him a job and education, and now he is a captain! He will not talk. He even told me that night he thought it was a shame you two were siblings, because you would have made such a beautiful couple..."

Now Laurence really felt the world turn around him and he slumped against the dragon's side for support. "He knows that Emily and I... are siblings? Heavens, Temeraire, how could you have told him?"

"But I did not! You did!"

"Me?"

"Yes. Well, not directly to Sipho, but you called Emily your sister in front of Madeira once. That was very careless of you, if I might add."

The man covered his face with both palms and groaned. "Heavens, what am I getting myself into?"

"Pray do not worry, Laurence," Temeraire bent his head and nuzzled him, "your secret is safe with us, with Sipho, Madeira and me. Sipho really was very sad about you and Emily being siblings, because he had rooted for you two to get together for ages."

"Had he?" Laurence looked up with a frown. "But... but, Temeraire... Sipho is barely a few years younger than Emily... did he not deem it... _perverted_ for a man of my age to be with a girl of his age?"

"No, I do not think so," the dragon shook his head. "Besides, Sipho too has read _Sense and Sensibility_. That is a book by Jane Austen. Emily borrowed it from Sir Edward and read it out to me while you were sick."

"And?" the captain blinked. He had never read a single book by the aforementioned authoress and could not fathom what his dragon was hinting at.

"Well, in _Sense and Sensibility_, Colonel Brandon, who is your age, falls in love with Marianne Dashwood, who is Emily's age. At first she does not love him, she loves a young man called Willoughby, but then she realises the colonel is the one for her, and they get married. A lovely story. You should perhaps read out some more of Jane Austen's works to me, what do you say?"

"Are they not overly... sentimental?" Laurence grimaced.

"Not any more than _Die Leiden des jungen Werther_," Temeraire replied. "So... what was it like, huh?"

"What was what like?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at his dragon.

"The mating, of course!"

The man's throat constricted as he relived the memories of their night on Madeira. "Well... it was... the most magical experience of my life."

"And you call Jane Austen sentimental," Temeraire chuckled, pressing his muzzle to his captain's cheek.

"Pray let us not talk about it anymore, shall we?" Laurence gulped. "Whether it was magical or not... it is over. And she is no longer mine. She will be Granby's in only..." he pulled his watch out of his pocket and glanced on it, "thirty hours."

oOo

Emily was staring out the window at the dreary grounds outside. Most of the snow had melted by now, only a few patches of it were left on the grass, but it was still a depressing change from what she had seen on Madeira just ten days earlier. On the 'Island of Eternal Spring' she had allowed herself to be happy, even if only for a short while, and now her carelessness settled on her soul ten times as badly as it had after first sleeping with Laurence. Her first night with him had been hazy, drunken and had caused her just as much physical discomfort as it had caused her pleasure. That night on Madeira, however, had been pure bliss, and the memory of bliss of such magnitude made her heart ache much more than it had had on the 1st January. _Now _she knew well what she would be missing as John Granby's wife.

As though her fiancé had been a mind-reader, there was a knock on her door and he entered with a wan smile. "Emily, I hope I am not disturbing."

"No, of course not," she rose from her seat by the window.

"I have brought you your wedding dress," he gave her a package wrapped into something as thin and fine as rice paper. "No frills and no lace, just as you asked... or at least, I hope there is none. I asked the seamstress to add none, but I have not seen the results. You know what they say... it is unfortunate for the groom to see the bride's wedding dress before they meet at the altar."

Emily fought with her facial muscles not to tuck into a bitter grimace. She feared her marriage would not be fortunate even without John seeing her dress before the wedding. "Thanks, John. I am sure the dress is lovely."

"There is another one in the package," he said with a barely noticeable waver in his voice, "the one you wore at the New Year's party. It had... a few buttons missing, so I had it fixed for you."

"Oh," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. A picture flashed into her mind, or rather just a feeling of the back of her dress being ripped... then the next time she had seen this dress had been the following morning when the dress had lain on the chair, neatly folded. She had been so disturbed by the previous night's events that she had merely thrown the folded dress into the wardrobe, not even noticing something was wrong with it. She had not remembered it being torn even when she had asked John to find the dress and let the seamstress base her wedding gown on it. _Now_ she did remember that moment Laurence had ripped the dress open, right after she had ripped his coat and his shirt off... it had been a rough night, so unlike the one they had shared on Madeira...

She had to blink back a tear at the memory of the latter. "Thank you, John. It was very thoughtful of you."

"You are most welcome," he replied with a small smile.

A long pause ensued and Emily tried to appear busy with putting the wrapped dresses into her wardrobe, but she could not procrastinate for ever and could not ignore her fiancé standing nearby, looking rather uneasy. "John... is something wrong?"

He heaved a sigh, running a hand nervously across his dark locks. "Emily... these six weeks in your absence have given me just enough time to think."

"Don't tell me. You are backing out, aren't you?" she breathed, and a little part of her soul hoped he would say yes.

"No," he shook his head, "only... I have been thinking... wondering... if you truly wanted to marry me. _Me_, Emily."

"Of... of course, John, why...?"

He stepped closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Is it truly me you want to marry?"

His dark blue eyes were searching and pleading and she would have wished for nothing more than to admit that it was not him, it was by no means him she wanted to marry... but she could not. Laurence and she were brother and sister. They had no future together. "Yes, John. I want to marry you."

He let out a long sigh and drew her into his arms, gently kissing her temple. "Just so that you know... my friendship will always be yours... even if you should back out..."

"But I will not back out, John," she whispered into his shoulder, fighting with her tears.

"I hope you will not," he drew back a bit to look into her eyes, "but should you still... you have my promise. You will never lose me as a friend."

Emily did not know what to say, all her efforts were concentrated on holding her tears at bay.

"I think I should go now. Iskierka is more problematic today than ever."

"Is that possible?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," he laughed, the ice finally breaking between them. "She is jealous of the attention little Madeira is getting from Temeraire, and she is miffed because she cannot attend our wedding. She simply would not understand that we cannot hold it outside in February... you would freeze to death in that silk gown..."

"Never fear for me, I am not the type to be cold," Emily replied, "especially if you will be there to warm me up."

At this, Granby flashed her with the brightest smile she had seen from him for ages. "Right, my dear. But still, my mother _is _the type to be cold. She would not bear to sit through a ceremony on the dragon grounds." With a light kiss on her lips, he turned to leave.

Emily stared at the closing door, tears finally finding their way down her cheeks. This was not how a happy bride should feel, she thought bitterly. But did she have a right to be happy at all... after all that happened?

oOo

_House of Lords, London, 26__th__ February, 1816_

"...and this is why I have sought the opportunity to address your Lordships, even if you would never have allowed a peeress to appear in your midst. I am obliged to the noble Lords Wilberforce and Allendale for interceding on my behalf." From her vantage point on the steps leading to the throne, Jane slightly inclined her head towards the two gentlemen. "Your Lordships, the neglect His Majesty's Aerial Corps has suffered since Waterloo is the greatest unfairness ever to happen to any corps of His Majesty's military forces. Even His Grace, the Duke of Wellington has admitted that it was the Aerial Corps that won the battle of Waterloo for him, for England and for the whole of Europe, and the treatment we have received ever since the victory is definitely not what we deserve."

Peers looked around, fidgeting uneasily as their eyes fell upon the Duke of Wellington sitting on the Government bench amidst the Lords of the Tory party. The duke, however, pretended he did not take the woman's words as an insult, rather motioned her with a tiny move of his hand to proceed. And she did, unperturbed.

"You could say we are demanding too much, that we have had our fair share of financial funds, and you would be right – but only partly. Yes, we received allowances years and years ago when Napoleon invaded the country, because your Lordships realised that you could not do without the help of our beasts, but what of us now? Now that we are living in the blissful state of peace?" Jane Roland's voice was sharp and loud and dripping with sarcasm. As she looked around in the hall with her arms akimbo, her sword and pistols on her hips glinting in an almost menacing way, some of the lords flinched and once again stole glances at Wellington. Some murmured among themselves, some (particularly the bishops) glowered at the woman with scandalised expressions, but some gave her approving nods.

Finally it was the Duke of Wellington who rose to his feet, and all the whispering died away at once. "The noble and gallant Lady has spoken well," he said, "and we must admit that we have treated the Aerial Corps unfairly recently. Yes, the war has taken a lot out of our beloved homeland and our treasury has been emptied… or nearly emptied, but we have not shared the small funds at our disposal fairly among our military forces. The Army and the Navy have been given incomparably more than the Aerial Corps, and we, noble Lords, have just washed our hands."

"Your Grace says it was about giving the funds to people or giving them to beasts!" a portly lord rose to his feet with cheeks reddened with anger. "What would Your Grace choose? Men or animals? That is the question here!"

"Dragons are not animals!" Jane snapped. "Your Grace, you know better than anyone else that dragons not only talk, but also think and feel just like humans do, therefore they cannot be lumped in with dogs, cats and cows! Yes, I believe dogs, cats and cows also suffer from the cold and from being underfed, but what do they do in such cases? The dog barks plaintively and gives you those irritating puppy eyes, the cat mewls and rubs itself against your leg in hope of food, and the cow lows and refuses to give milk. But what do dragons do? They still work and fight for England, because they love their home country like either of you do!"

"Their home country? I beg Your Ladyship not to make us laugh," someone spoke up from an upper row. "They only love their captains and the cows we give them to eat!"

"Oh, is that so?" Jane's voice further rose in pitch. "Then why did Temeraire, the greatest renegade of all, decide to chase the French out of England when he thought his captain was dead? Why, if not out of love for his home country? And why did the other renegade, Iskierka, refuse to join the French to free her captain Granby? Because Granby was British and she, albeit her egg had been laid in Turkey, regarded herself British! Dragons are subjects just like you and you and you!" she looked from lord to lord, her eyes blazing with a fury and a passionate resolution to make others see the truth at last.

"The House thanks the noble and gallant Lady," the Duke of Wellington said. "I believe she has made a point here. The House will discuss the matter with the House of Commons."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Jane slightly inclined her head, then marched out of the hall, her mind reeling and her head feeling overly heavy. She was practically seething with anger at what she had just heard from certain lords, and even more upset by Wellington's smooth talk – after all it had been exactly he who had earlier refused the Corps the funds they had needed. Could he have changed his mind just like that? Or did he have other, dark intentions in pretending to support the case all of a sudden? In her frustration, Jane felt like kicking something, preferably Wellington's shin. She hated politicians.

She suspected she had overstepped the mark when it came to civilised behaviour, but to hell with them all! If it took harsh words to make them come to their senses, then perhaps she had not made such a huge mistake. However, she knew it would take days, weeks or even months for her to learn if her words had had the required impact on their Lordships, as they, in the state of peace, were not forced to decide quickly. Bureaucracy never was famous for its efficiency, especially when it was not in the bureaucrats' interest to be efficient.

Jane glanced on the grandfather clock just outside the door. It was past midday. There was no way for her to reach her daughter's wedding now. "Damn it," she muttered, hurrying down the corridor.

"Admiral Roland?" someone called after her.

She turned around wearily and angrily about being held back. "What?" she snapped, then froze as she spotted it was Lord Allendale. "I am sorry, my lord, I am in a hurry."

"In a hurry?" he knitted his eyebrows.

"Yes. My daughter is getting married in Dover in less than three hours. I must be there, even if I miss the beginning of the ceremony."

"Oh," Lord Allendale nodded. "Understandable. But I trust at least her father is there to walk her down the aisle..."

"Her father?" she snorted.

"Well… I know you are not married to young Miss Roland's father, but that does not mean he could not be there…"

Jane's hands balled into fists as she glowered at him.

"Why are you giving me this look... as though you were ready to skewer me with your eyes?"

Something in Jane's mind snapped. Something that should have snapped years and years ago. The fatigue of the journey to London, the nervousness about the results of her speech and the knowledge that her only child was about to marry someone she might never be happy with had left their mark on Jane's mind, heart and soul. "You ask me why I am giving you this look? You, of all people?"

Lord Allendale's moustache twitched in a nervous way, suggesting there were barely suppressed emotions bubbling inside of him. "What do you mean by that, Admiral Roland?" he asked in a voice as civil as he could muster.

"You know exactly what I mean!" she stomped her foot, not caring that several people had left the chamber by now and were staring at them with curious expressions.

"No, Admiral, I do not!" the elderly man's voice rose slightly in pitch. "You talk exactly like William had months ago! He was accusing me of something I had no idea about! What the hell is going on with you two?"

Jane's nostrils flared and her lips trembled, the idea crossing her mind that the esteemed Lord Allendale very likely would not have used the words 'what the hell' in front of the whole of the House of Lords, had he not been at the end of his tether.

For the first twenty years of Emily's life it had not even occurred to Jane that she should in any way be angry with her daughter's father, after all, the man had not even known about the child's existence. But ever since she had found out that Emily had unknowingly fallen in love with her own brother, ever since she had been forced to witness Emily's suffering and her heart had ached for her daughter, she had begun to blame the father. She had known it was unfair to blame him, but sometimes even the practical Jane Roland tended to let emotions overrule rationalism. She was not one for petty revenge, but this was definitely one of those few cases when her sensibility was stronger than her sense.

"My daughter has no one to walk her down the aisle, because her father is not there for her," she hissed, lowering her voice, "because her father is right here, talking with me and holding even _me_ back from attending her wedding!"

Lord Allendale's eyes widened. "Just... just what are you talking about?"

oOo

Despite the cold outside, the little church on the outskirts of the town was pleasantly warm, mostly due to the fact that it was crowded – almost everyone of the Dover covert had come, not to mention Granby's family and childhood friends.

Laurence was standing near the altar in his best attire, beside the groom, his heart heavier than ever. He wished he could be elsewhere – anywhere else – just to avoid witnessing the love of his life marrying his best friend; but he could not let Granby down, even if his presence would cause Emily immense pain.

Jane was nowhere to be seen, and he suspected she had not made it due to her appointment with the Lords, and he wondered who was going to walk Emily down the aisle. Sometimes it was the mother who volunteered in the absence of the father, but since even she was missing, he truly could not fathom who would take on the task.

Finally the organ began to play and everyone stood and turned in the direction of the door.

Emily entered on old Berkley's arm, her snow white gown shone as the light came through the windows and every step she took was solemn and determined; yet there was no trace of happiness on her features. Her lips were tightly pressed together as if she feared a sob would escape if she opened them, and her eyes were cast down, which in her case, Laurence knew, was not due to the fact that she was a timid virgin, rather due to the fact that she felt uneasy wearing pure white – she was not pure, after all. And it was his fault that she was not.

Someone – very likely a young boy – sang Ave Maria from the choir in a high and crystal clear voice, and Laurence had never felt this holy song as utterly sad as he did now. Every deep sound of the organ and every high note the boy sang reverberated in his soul, the ache in his heart growing with the music to such an extent that he wondered how he had not yet collapsed from it.

While his insides ached, he could not take his eyes off Emily. She was the most beautiful bride he had ever seen; beautiful like a porcelain doll, and just as pale and fragile. He even had the impression she might break to pieces if old Berkley did not support her and lead her determinedly towards the altar and towards her fate.

For a fleeting second she looked up and her eyes sought out not her fiancé but her brother. For that fleeting moment their gazes locked and a slight blush spread on her cheeks, only to be replaced by deadly pallor as she turned away and let Berkley place her hand into John's. The groom sent his fiancée an encouraging smile that she tired to return, but all she managed was a barely visible curl of her lips.

The organ stopped playing, the choirboy fell silent, and the minister began to speak.

"_Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…"_

Laurence's eyes were fixed on the floor, fighting down the ever-surfacing thought that he would give anything just to be able to stand there in Granby's place… but it would be a hideous sin to marry his own sister, even if Jane decided to keep their blood relation a secret. He and Emily would know, and they would never be fully happy knowing what sin they were living in.

"…_and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee…"_

Indeed, a miracle would be needed for Emily to ever be happy with John, Laurence thought, and it would take an even greater miracle for him to ever be happy without Emily.

"… _it is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding…"_

Laurence blushed, remembering his first night with Emily, and judging by the trembling of her shoulders, so did she. She could not have been cold, not in this overcrowded, low-ceilinged church… she was shaking from resurfacing memories.

"…_First, It was ordained for the procreation of children…"_

Laurence gulped. He had always wanted to have children, but he was glad and grateful Emily had not conceived on that fateful New Year's Eve.

"…_both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or–"_

"Stop!" a highly familiar voice shouted from the entrance. "Stop this instant!"

oOo

**A/N: weeeeeeeeell? ;)**


	15. Let Him Now Speak

**AgiVega has a few statements to make.**

**1. AgiVega has finally got her copy of Tongues of Serpents. She wasn't charmed by it but is sure (or at least very hopeful) that books 7-9 will be much more inspiring (without much Emily/Demane, if possible ;)**

**2. AgiVega has become a published author. Her book – Second Atlantis (in Hungarian) – hit the stores (in Hungary) today. She is proud of that.**

**3. AgiVega thanks everyone who has so far reviewed this story (and her earlier Temeraire fanfics), and is presenting her beloved Readers with the final chapter. Enjoy. :)**

**Chapter 15**

**Let Him Now Speak, or For Ever Hold His Peace**

"Stop!" a highly familiar voice shouted from the entrance. "Stop this instant!"

Everyone in the church froze as Jane Roland, followed by a wheezing and stumbling old man, hurried inside.

"Father," Laurence breathed, his eyes as wide as saucers. He had never seen Lord Allendale run and pant – such things were beneath his dignity –, and yet, there was no doubt it had been him who had shouted. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Stopping the wedding, of course," the old man gasped for breath, stopping halfway down the aisle.

"Stopping the wedding?" Granby said, his voice wavering with both shock and fury. "What does this mean, sir?"

"Pray calm down, Captain Granby," Jane hushed him with a wave of her hand, "and let us speak."

For a moment silence fell upon the church, only Catherine Harcourt's nine-year-old son piped up, "What's happening, mama?"

Admiral Roland cleared her throat and walked closer to the altar in her usual determined, manly stride. "It so happened that till only three hours ago, I was firm in the belief that his Lordship," she jerked her thumb towards Lord Allendale, "was the father of my daughter."

"What?" the groom gasped, and so did many others around, the minister included.

"Mama, I thought Emily had no papa at all," little Riley said. "And isn't Lord Whoever too old to be Emily's papa? He's older than my own grandfather!"

Catherine chose the most practical way for silencing her son: she pressed a hand on his mouth.

"What… what does this mean?" Emily breathed, paler than ever. "Mother… you said you _believed_ he was my father… only believed? Does that mean… he is not?"

"No, Miss Roland," Lord Allendale replied before Jane could, "I am sorry to disappoint, but you are no daughter of mine."

Laurence thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest, yet he felt paralysed – he could not speak, could not move… not until he saw Emily sway and nearly faint. His instincts overpowered his petrified state, and he jumped to her to catch her and closed her into his arms, completely forgetting that her fiancé was just a few steps away, watching them with his mouth agape.

"But… but how…?" Emily whispered, still too weak to stand without support. "Mother said… she thought you were…"

"She had every reason to think that. I had a cousin, Edmund," Lord Allendale explained. "Our fathers were siblings – identical twins, actually. Edmund and I bore an uncanny resemblance to each other. He was your father, Miss Roland."

"But sir…" Laurence said in a trembling voice, not daring to believe what he had just heard. It was simply too good to be true, and he had learned just enough times that things that looked too good to be true usually turned out to be false. "You never even talked about your cousin... all we knew about him was a name on the family tree."

"Of course I did not talk about him," Lord Allendale grunted, "he was the black sheep of the family. A spendthrift, a whoremonger… beg your pardon, Admiral," he inclined his head in Jane's direction, "but that is the truth. I clearly remember one day – shortly before he died, he begged me for a meeting in a rather infamous inn in the London docks. He wanted money, of course. He owed lots of people… even criminals, I expect, so no wonder he was eventually eliminated by them." A look of disgust spread on the elderly man's face. "Even in that desperate hour he could not talk about anything else but the money he needed and the women he had had. I clearly remember it: he was particularly proud of a conquest, the conquest of a woman with a scar on her left cheek."

"Conquest?" Jane snorted. "_He_ did not conquer me. _I_ dragged him into bed, not the other way around!"

Some people chuckled, but the minister knitted his eyebrows and pressed his lips tightly together in disapproval.

"So now you understand it," Lord Allendale carried on, turning to his son. "Your mother and I wanted to keep our children as far from your uncle Edmund as possible. We never even allowed him to enter either Wollaton Hall or our London residence. He would only have been bad influence on you all. And see, his mere memory nearly ruined your lives! Thank God Admiral Roland cared to mention your predicament to me… If Edmund were alive and you had had to spend the rest of your life apart from this young lady, I would choke him with my own hands now!"

Laurence's jaw dropped. He had never heard his father talk like this… he had never heard him talk like _his_ father. Like a father at all, especially a_ loving_ father. He had to gather all his reservation not to lunge forward and hug the old man.

"That means…" he looked at Emily who was still shaking in his arms, "we are not siblings. We are only… second-cousins!"

"And second-cousins are allowed to marry," Jane said with a warm smile.

Unearthly joy spread on Emily's features and she grabbed Laurence's neckcloth to kiss him, but before their lips could touch, she drew back with a frown and released him. "I… I am still a bride." She stepped away from him, looking at her fiancé. "John's bride."

Laurence's heart sank. For a short, selfish moment he had completely forgotten about his best friend.

Granby stepped closer, a wistful smile on his face. "So… this is why you could not get married… you loved each other all along, but you thought you were siblings, and you rather kept your distance… except for one case."

Laurence felt an invisible hand clench at his throat, but before he could utter a single word, Granby went on, "I heard you that night, Laurence. When you thought I was dying. I heard every word, and although I was not sure for a while if I had dreamed it or it had been real, I was soon forced to realise it had been real."

"Forced?" Laurence muttered.

Granby nodded. "The dress Emily had worn that night had been torn." His sad smile turned into an almost impish grin. "Ripped apart."

"Heavens, Laurence, you shagged Emily when you thought she was your sister?" Nancy Collins's exasperated voice said from the crowd, making the minister blanch and raise his eyes to the ceiling as if asking help from the Almighty. Clearly he had never solemnised as scandalous a wedding as this one.

"Mama, what does it mean he shagged Emily?" little Riley piped up again, only to be hushed by Harcourt once more.

With glowing cheeks, Laurence nodded in an answer to Nancy's question. There was no use mentioning that he and Emily had been drunk and drugged that night – it would not change the facts. The worst of it was not even that his fellow aviators had heard it, that even _Jane_ had heard it, but that _his father_ had heard it too.

Steeling himself for the worst, Laurence looked up from his boots to meet Lord Allendale's eyes, ready for the tirade the old man was about to pour at him. A tirade that never came.

"Son," Lord Allendale said in a voice by no means approving, but at least not full of disgust and rejection, "I have never cheated on your mother like you have accused me. Our marriage has had its ups and downs, but despite all appearances, I love her and honour her. I expect you love this young woman at least as much as I love Lady Allendale. And love, although not in every case, might be an excuse for our mistakes. I have made a fair share of mine regarding my children and the way I treated them, because I thought strictness would serve them in the future. But in the process I have neglected to show them what really is important." He cleared his throat and looked away, as though he were suddenly very interested in the chandelier.

"He means he loves you," Jane said gently. When Lord Allendale only crossed his arms behind his back, she added, "He would not have mounted Excidium and flown all the way from London at a breakneck speed if he did not."

"Humph," Lord Allendale grunted. "My behind is all sore from sitting on that beast… I honestly do not understand what your mother enjoyed about it…"

Laurence's jaw dropped for the second time in just a few minutes and an elated expression spread on his face, but before he could express any sort of gratitude, he once again remembered that his best friend was still the groom here, waiting patiently for him and Emily to notice his presence.

"John…" he swallowed, "I can never expect you to forgive me…"

"It was not his fault!" Emily countered. "_I_ pushed myself on him! _I_ instigated it! Oh, John, blame me, not him!"

Granby first smiled at Emily, then at Laurence. "I do not blame either of you. You are both my friends and I love you dearly… and wish you two all the best." With that, he took Emily's hand and placed it into Laurence's. "May I be your best man, old friend?"

Laurence felt his knees buckle, and his vocal cords failed him, so he only nodded, but the brilliance of the smile on his face must have spoken better than a thousand words.

"Thank you, John," he finally managed to utter in a raspy voice, but Emily was more eloquent in grabbing Granby and kissing him on both cheeks, tears of joy running down her cheeks.

"Thank you so, so much, John," she sniffed, then stepped back next to Laurence, folding her hands with his.

"Well, then, shall we start the ceremony from scratch, or just continue from where we left off?" the minister asked, his expression still a mixture of shock and confusion with a hint of 'let's get this over with at last'.

"Er… I don't know, vicar," Emily said, "this man has never asked me yet."

"Oh," Laurence reddened, then turned from Emily to send his father a determined glance. "I am about to propose to a commoner, sir. Any objections?"

"Even if I objected, would you care?" Lord Allendale's mouth twitched, suggesting he was fighting with his facial muscles not to smile.

"No, sir," Laurence grinned at him.

"I would not expect anything else from you," his father said, now truly smiling. "Besides, the young lady is not fully a commoner. By blood, she is a Laurence."

"I am glad we finally agree on something, sir," Laurence said, and sank to his knees before the bride. "Emily, I love you. Will you marry me?"

"Of course, you dolt," she smirked and non-so-gently pulled him to his feet. "_Now_ you may continue, vicar. And leave all that bosh from the beginning, let's get down to the questions."

"Finally," the minister sighed. "Well, John… I mean… what is your name, my son?"

"William, vicar."

"Well, then… William, wilt__thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Sending Emily a brilliant smile, Laurence said, "I will."

"Emily, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"Obey and serve? Only as long as he's my captain," Emily grinned at the bewildered minister, then said with a mischievous smile, "of course I will."

The exchange of rings followed (Granby lent his to Laurence), accompanied by sobs from Mrs. Granby who was obviously very disappointed at having been dragged all the way from Newcastle-upon-Tyne just to witness her son not getting married.

When the minister said, "I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost", Laurence spotted tears in even Jane's eyes.

Barely had the newlyweds left the church when their in-laws gathered around them. Jane's eyes were still tearful, and she muttered to Laurence, "I expect you to make her happy, or suffer my wrath! And Laurence, never, ever think of calling me 'Mama'!"

"Not if I value my life," the groom laughed, his eyes falling upon his father. "Thank you, sir, for everything."

Lord Allendale waved his hand with a stoic expression. "Forget it, and make sure you compensate your mother for missing your wedding with quickly providing her with a grandchild. She desperately wants a tenth."

Laurence felt a flush rise in his cheeks, but Emily did not blush at all as she flashed her new father-in-law with a bright smile. "You can count on that, sir. We shall get down to business as soon as possible."

oOo

_Wollaton Hall, six weeks later_

"I am so glad to have you here for the Easter holidays," Lady Allendale said, walking arm in arm with her son. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was unusually warm for the middle of April, so Lord and Lady Allendale could not have arranged their Easter garden party on a more suitable day.

"I expect it was not Father's idea to invite us," Laurence replied with a small smile.

"Oh, of course not, but you know I can influence him without him noticing, so eventually he thought it was _his_ idea," the lady laughed. "Besides, he knew how disappointed I was to have missed your wedding and wanted to cheer me up by having you and Emily here for the holidays."

Laurence felt a wave of shame wash over him – his father apparently truly loved his mother, he had only hidden his love behind the mask of impassivity he had always worn. Laurence knew he had been very unfair to his father in accusing him of having cheated on Lady Allendale.

The news of the wedding's circumstances and the insinuations had naturally reached his mother's ears, but Lady Allendale had not seemed upset – she had had full trust in her husband's fidelity, and she could not really blame Laurence either for jumping to conclusions. Edmund Laurence had, after all, truly been the spitting image of Lord Allendale – even those who had known them tended to mistake them for each other, so it was no wonder Jane Roland had mistaken Lord Allendale for Emily's real father.

It had been sheer luck, though, that the always composed Jane had for a fleeting moment lost her composure and snapped at Lord Allendale that he was Emily's father, for this had given them both a chance to clear the misunderstanding. And eventually everything had turned out well, even for the Corps: the House of Lords and the House of Commons had a few days before Easter decided upon a fairer distribution of the Empire's military budget.

"You know, Will, it was a little silly of you to never mention your doubts regarding your father's fidelity," the elderly woman said in a gentle but chiding tone. "I would have told you outright that your doubts were completely unfounded… but I expect you did it out of concern for my feelings… and you nearly lost your chance at happiness, out of honour and respect."

"But it turned out all right in the end," the man said, gently patting his mother's hand. "For months, ever since Jane Roland had told me that Emily and I were siblings, I have had doubts in God and His mercy, but I no longer have. I am blessed with the most wonderful family one could wish for."

Lady Allendale gave him a warm smile, but there was a hint of bitterness in it. "I am only sorry about that young man who had been Emily's groom, he must feel wretched, the poor thing."

"Probably not as wretched as you would believe, Mother," Laurence said. "It seems he has recently started courting Nancy Collins."

"Your ex-fiancée?" the lady's eyes widened.

"Yes," the captain chuckled. "And I am sure they will make a charming couple. I wish them all the best."

"Speaking of the best, do you not think it is _not_ the best idea to expose poor Emily to our high society friends?" the elderly woman looked at a pretty garden pavilion in which several baronesses and countesses were having tea with the youngest Mrs. Laurence seated among them.

"You mean we should save her?" Laurence grinned. "I would say, we should probably save those ladies from Emily."

Lady Allendale laughed out heartily. They set their course for the pavilion, approaching it from behind. The small building had a wooden wall at the back, but the rest was open, merely supported by wooden pillars.

"…and do tell, Mrs. Laurence, what does it feel like, being married to a traitor?" someone asked in a highly familiar, unpleasant voice.

Laurence and her mother stopped in their tracks behind the building.

"I can assure you, Miss Montagu, that it feels most satisfying," Emily's voice replied sweetly, but Laurence detected a malicious undertone, "for this traitor is a man of honour, more than most of the esteemed gentlemen here, I'll wager. He is also a man with a huge heart and as much selflessness as I haven't seen in anyone else. He has more courage in his little finger than half the British army and navy put together… oh, and of course, he's damn good in bed."

"Why, thank you, my dear, although I am sure you overestimate my merits," Laurence stepped out from behind the wall and perceived with satisfaction that Miss Montagu had spilled her cup of tea into her lap and an elderly lady was fanning herself and whimpering she needed the smelling salts. "Excuse me, my ladies, may I steal my beautiful wife from your distinguished circle?"

"Will you excuse me?" Emily rose from her seat and hurried down the steps of the pavilion to slip her arm into Laurence's.

"I believe you have made quite an impression on our guests, my dear," Lady Allendale chuckled at her daughter-in-law after they had put enough distance between themselves and the dumbfounded ladies.

"Well, I felt I must. That Miss Montagu is a real harpy, no wonder she's still unmarried at the age of… how old, exactly?"

"She is Edith's age, so around thirty-seven, I believe," Laurence replied as they left the last of the partygoers behind and entered a small clearing separated from the main park by a fairly tall hedge. "She has always been a harpy, and I must admit I am glad you put her in her place."

"Why, is that Miss Montagu not that cowardly woman who did not dare ride me?" Temeraire's head lifted from behind the hedge. He had been asked to keep a low profile during the party and had gladly obliged as long as little Felicity offered him some company.

"Yes, my dear, Miss Montagu was exactly that cowardly woman who did not dare ride you," Laurence replied, his lips tucked into a grin at the eleven-year-old memory.

"Did I hear correctly that she is still unmarried?" Temeraire carried on, once again surprising Laurence with his exceptionally acute hearing. They must have been at least fifty yards from the dragon, speaking in hushed tones when they had first mentioned Miss Montagu, and yet Temeraire had heard every word.

"Well, yes, she is," Lady Allendale said. "Rumour has it she used to fancy Bertram Woolvey, but you know whom Woolvey married..."

"Yes," Laurence nodded, and found that for the first time in his life, he did not feel the slightest bitterness when thinking of Edith Galman marrying someone else.

"No wonder Miss Montagu's got no husband," little Felicity opined, "she's old and ugly and nasty. But Uncle Will, once you said you were too old for me, and I understand that. But are you not too old for Emily as well?"

The newlyweds both opened their mouths to reply, but Temeraire was quicker.

"I suspect you have never read Jane Austen, young lady," the dragon said gently. "There was that Colonel Brandon, forty years of age, who married Marianne Dashwood, only twenty. But if you want proof from real life, not from fiction, just think of old Bonaparte. He was forty-one when he married Marie Louise, the Archduchess of Austria, who was only eighteen. There were twenty-three years between them. Between Laurence and Emily there are only twenty."

"Oh, that's much better," the little girl breathed, seemingly satisfied with the answer, although Laurence was not sure if Felicity, at the age of six, was able to tell the difference between twenty and twenty-three. "And Uncle Will," she carried on, "now that you're married, will the stork finally find his way to your place?"

"Well, it seems he definitely found his way to Madeira," Emily said with an impish grin.

"To… Madeira?" Laurence's eyes widened. "But… but you said… we were safe… the calendar…"

"Cannot be fully trusted," Emily shrugged.

Lady Allendale's jaw dropped. "William… did you not say you were on Madeira _weeks_ before the wedding?"

Laurence felt himself blush.

"Of course they were," Temeraire replied for his captain, "and they mated there too, just like at the New Year's party in Dover."

"Temeraiiiiire," Laurence groaned, hiding his face in his palm.

"Mated? What does that mean?" Felicity asked, but before she could continue, the old woman pressed her hands on the little girl's ears, and burst out, "WILLIAM!"

"Mother…"

"You… you two did it... when you thought you were brother and sister?" Lady Allendale carried on vehemently, in her shock clearly not even realising that this meant she was finally getting the tenth grandchild she had so longed for. "And not only once, but _twice_?"

"No," Emily grinned at her mother-in-law. "Actually, it was five times."

**THE END**

**A/N: final comments? ;)**


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